THE BOYHOOD OF 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 




The old Stone House where Abe and Austin often stopped 
on their way to and from the Hodgen Mill 



THE BOYHOOD OF 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 



By 
J. ROGERS GORE 



FROM THE SPOKEN NARRATIVES OF 
AUSTIN GOLLAHER 



Illustrated yrom Photographs 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



^s-^ 



COFYBIOBT 1931 

Thb BoBBS-McaaiLL Company 



Printed in the Vnited States of America 



PRESS or 

BRAUNWORTH & CO. 

BOOK MANUFACTURERS 

BROOKLYN, N. Y. 



m IS ^^21 



PREFACE 

The following stories about the boy Abra- 
ham Lincoln were given to me at intervals, 
during a period of four or five years, by 
Austin GoUaher, who spent all his life 
among the hills of LaRue County, Ken- 
tucky, having been born in that county in 
the year 1806, and having died there on Feb- 
ruary 22, 1898. 

Twenty-five years ago, when I was on 
The LaRue County Herald j a weekly news- 
paper published at Hodgenville, Kentucky, 
the town of my birth and upbringing, I 
found much pleasure in visiting the home 
of Mr. Gollaher, and drawing from him 
these tales of the days when he and Lin- 
coln, children of the -wilderness, played in 
the woods, and along Knob Creek, upon 
the banks of which the boy Austin Gollaher 
lived when the Lincolns moved from Cave 
Spring Farm to the Knob Creek hills. 

Mr. Gollaher was unschooled, but he pos- 



PREFACE 

sessed a keen intellect, and talked interest- 
ingly and intelligently of his and Lincoln's 
childhood in LaRue County. In answer to 
my questions Mr. Gollaher, little by little, 
related the narratives quite free from inten- 
tional embellishment, I feel sure. 

In following these pages, however, the 
reader is asked to bear in mind that they are 
leaves from the loving memory of an old 
man. Abraham Lincoln was, in the recollec- 
tion of Austin Gollaher, the great event ; he 
was at once playmate and prophet, the day's 
companion and the man for the ages. ]Mr. 
Gollaher saw the boy through the splendor 
of the man's later years, and while he sought 
a scrupulous truth to fact — for he ever made 
probity his watchword — it would have been 
extraordinary, if not impossible, for his nar- 
ration of early youth to escape the coloring 
and the glamour of an imperishable name. 

It is undoubtedly true that no one, except 
the writer, preserved the data from which 
this series of stories has been written. I did 
so because they were of great personal in- 



PREFACE 

terest to me, and not with any thought at the 
time of offering them to the public. But 
since every word about Lincoln has become 
precious I feel it my duty and my pleasure 
to give to the world these simple stories, sim- 
ply told, of the great American's birth, in- 
fancy and childhood. They can hardly fail 
to interest all who love his memory and the 
many who know but little of these young 
years in LaRue County. 

INIr. Gollaher contended that some of the 
historians were in error in saying that 
Thomas Lincoln and his family moved to 
Indiana in the fall of 1816; he said the Lin- 
colns did not leave Kentucky until a year 
later, as recorded in Mrs. Gollaher's diary, 
or as he called it, "Mother's book of things"; 
that he and his father went with the Lin- 
colns to JNIiddle Creek, a small stream, now 
the dividing line between Hardin and La- 
Rue Counties, to help with a cow which was 
a little unruly, and that the journey was be- 
gun one bright morning in November, 1817. 

Mr. Gollaher associated Lincoln with 



PREFACE 

practically all of his memories of pioneer 
days in the Knob Creek hills. The essentials 
of the stories are presented as he gave them 
to me. In retelling them I believed it per- 
missible to go back more than one hundred 
years into the homes of the pioneers — to visit 
among them — to be with the Lincolns, the 
Gollahers, the Hodgens and others — to go 
with Abe and Austin into the hills, to watch 
them at their play, to listen to and record 
their conversations. I have, therefore, 
dramatized Mr. Gollaher's reminiscences in 
order to reconstruct with more realism the 
life of the period, and have allowed Abe and 
Austin, their friends and neighbors to talk 
in character and so, naturally, reveal in 
anecdote and experience the early life of the 
boy who was to become one of the world's 
greatest figures. 

J. R. G. 
Hodgenville, Kentuckj^ 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I Austin Gollaher 13 

II Looking Backward 20 

III The Deliverance 26 

rV Great Rejoicing 36 

V A Wonderful Child 41 

VI The Binding Tie 44 

VII A New Home 51 

VIII The Miraculous Escape 58 

IX New Friends 68 

X The Hodgens n 

XI Thirst for Learning 83 

XII The Parson and the Coonskin Cap . 96 

XIII Abraham and the Church .... 107 

XIV A Friendly Contest 118 

XV A Good Time Up Thees 126 

XVI The Nickname 132 

XVII The Explorers 140 

XVIII The Fox and the Trap 149 

XIX The Goat and the Coat 155 

XX The Rescue 165 

XXI Honey's Old Master 173 

XXII Robinson Crusoe 181 

XXIII Sarah's Swing 195 

XXIV Stealing Time 200 

XXV Austin and the Coon 208 

XXVI Just Turned Around 213 

XXVII The Ghost 219 

XXVIII The Distress Signal 223 



COtiTENTS— Continued 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIX The King's Little Boy 234 

XXX Two Prayers Just Alike 241 

XXXI Tell the Truth 248 

XXXII The Right to Fight 254 

XXXIII Abe's Dream 260 

XXXIV Off the Sheep's Back 265 

XXXV The Human Tree 269 

XXXVI Where Is Indian Anner 277 

XXXVII A Fight and a Stranger 284 

XXXVIII For the Best 290 

XXXIX The Last of Billy 296 

XL The End of Playtime 303 

XLI The Parting of the Ways .... 312 



THE BOYHOOD OF 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 



THE BOYHOOD OF 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

CHAPTER I 

AUSTIN GOLLAHER 

"God has been mighty good to me all of 
these years," said Mr. Gollaher. "He has 
given me strength and health, and enough 
sense to keep me always in the straight 
and narrow path. In the closing days of 
my life I am happy ; my children are kind 
to me, and so are my friends and neigh- 
bors, and I have lots to be thankful for. 
Why!" he said seriously, "even now my 
eyesight is pretty good and I can read 
my Bible and teach my Sunday-school 
class." 

For thirty years he was a deacon in a 
13 



14 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

little Baptist church which nestled among 
the hills near his home. There he preached 
and sang and taught until the weight of 
time weakened his strong body and forced 
him to the seclusion of his cabin home. 

Mr. Gollaher loved children, and was 
always pleased when he could visit a 
schoolhouse and tell some of his favorite 
stories of ''Abe." He was a good talker 
and, while his language was not entirely 
free of grammatical errors, what he said 
was always sensible and entertaining, and 
his advice to boys and girls always whole- 
some. The children returned his love, 
and would often cling to him, pat his 
ruddy cheeks and beg him to tell more 
stories from the Bible, or about his boy 
friend, ''Abe." 

Mr. Gollaher was a stalwart man, and 
even in his old age was strong and ath- 
letic. He was six feet high, broad-shoul- 
dered and full of untiring energy. He 
greeted stranger and friend with a cordial 
hand-shake and never failed to say: "I 



.J 



AUSTIN GOLLAHER 15 

hope your health and the health of your 
family is good." Particularly did he ask 
after the health of the people of the neigh- 
borhood. If he found illness anywhere he 
would lose little time in going to the bed- 
side of the afflicted. He knew something 
of medicine and was glad when he could 
contribute to the comforts of the 
suffering. 

He was a leader in his community and 
there was none who disliked him. As he 
rode his mule through the hills, he would 
often break into song, the folks along the 
way joining with him. He used to say he 
had the biggest band of singers in the 
world, that even the birds belonged to his 
choir. 

Mr. Gollaher was without personal am- 
bition, but was always eager to assist in 
any project for the upbuilding of the 
neighborhood. He was one of the leading 
spirits and speakers in meetings called 
for the advancement of pioneer interests. 
In his younger days he was a fighter, al- 



16 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

though not quarrelsome, but after he was 
twenty-five he settled into peaceful ways 
and would say, laughingly, that all the 
fights of his youth could have been 
avoided. He found more pleasure in fell- 
ing trees to build cabins than he would 
have found in laying corner-stones for 
mansions — more satisfying pleasure in 
the hunt than he would have found in 
business or politics. 

*'I regret that I neglected to well edu- 
cate myself," he said. "Abe always tried 
to get me to learn from the books, but I 
couldn't at that time see the need of it. 
Why, do you know," he exclaimed, "that 
had I been well educated I would have 
been Abe 's law partner ? And then, when 
he became president, he would have ap- 
pointed me to a judgeship. I learned to 
read and write and figure pretty well, be- 
cause Abe begged me to, and I have been 
glad of it always, because I was able to 
read of the greatness of my boyhood 
companion. 



AUSTIN GOLLAHER 17 

"The fact is," continued Mr. Gollaher, 
**I studied hard for a while, and learned 
fast, but I didn't keep at it; there were 
too many attractions in the hills, and I 
would neglect my studies any time to go 
hunting. In those days I believed a coon- 
skin more valuable than a book, and every 
time my dog barked, I went to the woods. 
I spent lots of my time in taking coons 
from the hollow trees. But notwithstand- 
ing I whiled away a great many hours 
loafing with my dog I was better educated 
than most of the folks in our community ; 
in fact, I was considered such a smart fel- 
low that they put me to teaching school 
when I was not much more than a young- 
ster. I taught over there where the 
Wilkins post-office now stands, and was 
fairly successful, though largely because 
Mrs. Sarah Hodgen helped me with many 
little things I did not understand. I 
taught two terms, and then went back to 
the woods with my dog and my gun." 

While no record of it can be found, it is 



18 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

said that at one time Mr. Gollaher was a 
justice of the peace iu LaRue County, and 
I remember that some of the people in his 
neighborhood called him "Judge," a title 
he did not like. *'The office is small," he 
would say, "and the title is big, and the 
misfit is bad. It reminds me of a small 
girl diked out in her mother's dress." 

On one occasion he was trying two 
young boys for disturbing public worship. 
The evidence showed that the culprits had 
thrown rocks against the church house 
during service. Mr. Gollaher heard the 
testimony, and was preparing to render 
his decision when the mother of one of the 
boys arose and addressed the court, 
saying: 

"Jedge, ef you'll let the boys go this 
time we will give them a good whuppin'. " 

"I can't do that," replied Mr. Golla- 
her; "I must sentence these youngsters." 
And he commanded the boys and their 
mothers to stand up. "The offense is a 
serious one," he said, "one for which no 



AUSTIN GOLLAHER 19 

excuse can be offered, except that these 
boys have not been properly brought up, 
that they have had no religious training. 
I therefore sentence the prisoners at the 
bar, together with their mothers, to six 
months " 

He paused and both women began to 
weep, pleading : 

"Fer Gawd's sake don't do that, Jedge 
Gollaher!" 

*' Order in the court!" commanded the 
judge. "As I was saying, I now sentence 
the prisoners and their mothers to six 
months' attendance at all services in the 
church during that period. They will oc- 
cupy the bench directly in front of the 
pulpit — the Mourners ' Bench — w here 
they will give strict attention to the teach- 
ing of the Bible." 



CHAPTER II 

LOOKING BACKWARD 

When Mr. Gollaher talked of ^^Abe" 
he glowed with enthusiasm. He believed 
implicitly that God gave Lincoln to the 
world, and watched over him and guided 
him that He might use him as an instru- 
ment to do a great work. He recalled in- 
stances in the child life of Lincoln that he 
believed miraculous — things which could 
not have occurred had not God's guiding 
hand been present. 

He said Abe was smarter than many of 
the older people and that he was always 
doing or saying something that astonished 
them ; that his solemn wit was refreshing 
to those who understood it, his philosophy 
and wisdom frequently beyond belief. 

20 



LOOKING BACKWARD 21 

"Big," he said, raising his hands above 
his head, *'is not the right word to de- 
scribe Abe either in mind or body. I'll 
tell you that boy towered ! He was nearly 
a head taller than I, yet I was three 
years older; and when it came to being 
smart he was way yonder ahead of me. 
God did it ; God made him big in body and 
mind so that he could work hard and 
never tire — so that he would not give up 
until the job was finished." 

In describing Abe's appearance, Mr. 
Gollaher said: "His legs were long, his 
arms were long, his ears were long and 
his head was long. He was the longest 
boy in the world. He could walk farther, 
throw farther and hear farther than any 
other boy. His eyes were as mild as the 
moon, but 'pon my word, he could see 
through these hills here," and he waved 
his hand toward a chain of hills that al- 
most circled his home. 

"But I felt mighty hard toward Abe 
once upon a time, just for a little while," 



22 THE BOYHOOD OE LINCOLN 

said Mr. Gollalier, a smile playing upon 
Ms tobacco-stained lips. "You see, I 
never heard a word from him until after 
he was elected president, and I thought he 
had entirely forgotten me— I thought 
maybe he thought I was too common for 
him to remember after he became so great. 
But I was mistaken, and I now believe 
Abe thought of me often, and loved me 
just like he did when we were inseparable 
playmates upon the hills and in the hol- 
lows along Knob Creek. 

''One time," he continued, "when Doc- 
tor Jesse Eodman, who lived and died at 
Hodgenville, was in Washington, he saw 
Abe, and Abe asked all about me, and sent 
word to me that he would pay my ex- 
penses if I would come to Washington to 
see him. But I didn't go, because I was 
always afraid to ride on a train of cars. 
Abe also told Doctor Rodman that shortly 
after he moved to Indiana he learned how 
to read and write pretty well; that he 
wrote two letters to me and gave them to 



LOOKING BACKWAED 23 

passers-by coming this way, and asked 
that they hand them along to others until 
they should finally reach me. But I never 
got them. Abe wrote another letter to me 
from somewhere in Illinois, but I didn't 
get that either. He told Doctor Rodman 
that he thought maybe I had died, or that 
we had all moved away. Why," the old 
man said seriously, "I'd give this whole 
f ai*m for those letters right now. 

"Abe talked a long time to Doctor Rod- 
man," continued Mr. Gollaher, "and they 
ate dinner together there in the White 
House. He asked all about me, and told 
the doctor about the time I pulled him out 
of Knob Creek with a fishing pole and 
saved him from drowning, and also about 
his billy-goat that stuck a stob in its belly 
and was killed. He spoke freely of every- 
body he used to know here, and tears came 
into his eyes. Doctor Rodman said, as he 
recalled old Mrs. Sarah Hodgen, the 
widow of Robert, the owner of the old 
Hodgen Mill over there at Hodgenville. 



24 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

She and two of her sons, John and Isaac, 
were among the best friends Abe ever had 
in the world. As between the Hodgen 
boys Abe loved John the most, because 
John ran the mill, where Abe used to pla}^ 
John Hodgen thought Abe was a wonder- 
ful youngster, and he did lots of nice 
things for him. 

"Abe also asked about my father and 
mother and many friends who had passed 
to the other world. He loved my father 
and mother because they were always 
good to him. Lots and lots of times 
mother used to hug both Abe and me to 
her breast and tell us Bible stories. 

"He told Doctor Rodman that he had 
known few sadder days than the day when 
he said good-by to me and crossed Middle 
Creek on his way with his parents to Indi- 
ana. He said he was coming over here 
some of these days to see what was left of 
us ; but he never came. I reckon it would 
have made him feel bad to have seen how 
things have changed — to have seen the 



LOOKING BACKWARD 25 

graves of the people who were so good to 
him when he was a boy. Abe was always 
sad, anyhow, and seemed like he was wor- 
ried about something; every day of his 
child and boy life here he seemed that 
way, and I guess he never outgrew it. 

**The story of the birth of Abe, as I 
heard it from my mother and father, im- 
pressed me so much," said Mr. Gollaher, 
''that I have dreaded winter ever since. 
To this day, when I hear cold winds howl- 
ing my mind goes back to that terrible 
blizzard on the morning of February 12, 
1809, and I see old Mr. Isom Enlow over 
there near the Cave Spring Farm, stum- 
bling and falling as he plows through the 
snow — lost in the gray woods, in the blind- 
ing storm. And then I see him as he falls 
over the cliff and struggles up the hill to 
the Lincoln cabin, where he found Mrs. 
Lincoln and little Sarah and the baby, 
Abe, half starved and almost frozen. 



CHAPTER III 

THE DELIVERANCE 

The winter of 1809 was a severe one. It 
came a little late, but it came suddenly, 
with its blighting winds, its ice and snow 
and low-hanging clouds, and it dealt deso- 
lation to field and forest in Kentucky. 
Those pioneers who lazily lounged in the 
sunshine of November and December, 
failing to prepare for the winter, were 
hopelessly caught in the grip of that 
mighty blizzard. Cattle and game which 
did not find shelter were driven to the 
slaughter-pens of the storm. Even the 
well-to-do suffered unusual inconve- 
niences and hardships, and there was much 
sickness and many deaths among the fam- 
ilies of the pioneers in the remoter wilds. 

26 



THE DELIVERANCE 27 

The cold came in January and con- 
tinued through February, with only brief 
intervals of mild weather. On February 
11, 1809, Isom Enlow, a brawny and well- 
to-do backwoodsman, taking advantage of 
a likely morning — a lull in the storm — 
went to visit a neighbor who lived six or 
seven miles from the Enlow home in the 
South Fork River section of LaRue 
County. Early in the afternoon, while 
Mr. Enlow was yet in the home of his 
neighbor, the blizzard renewed its attack, 
continuing bitterly into the night, so that 
he found it necessary to remain until the 
morning of the twelfth, as neither man 
nor beast could withstand the onslaught 
of the storm. But on the morning he set 
out afoot, in spite of protests, for he was 
anxious to quiet the fears of his family 
who had expected him the day before. 
He threw his strong body against the 
wind and trudged along, fighting his way 
inch by inch over a trail deeply hidden 
and treacherous. 



28 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

The storm, after a brief lull, was soon 
again at its height, the stiff wind blowing 
the dry snow from the hills, filling the 
hollows and drifting deep along the fields. 
Mr. Enlow traveled as one under a mighty 
load ; his finger-tips frozen, his feet clum- 
sily numb. Lashed by the wind and snow, 
his eyes were burned and his sight was so 
dimmed that the big trees were as dancing 
shadows; confusion was rioting in his 
brain, and his strong heart was perilously 
weak. He must find shelter quickly or 
perish. His strength was waning rapidly, 
and he felt that numbness creeping into 
his body which frequently produces indif- 
ference — the indifference that causes one 
to lie down, smiling, into the arms of 
death. 

But to such a man there was no thought 
of surrender; he was a born fighter; his 
was the red blood of the frontiersman. It 
might have been easier, even more pleas- 
ant, to have given up the fight and died, 
but the predominating desire in his heart 



THE DELIVERANCE 29 

was to outwit the storm and to escape the 
chagrin of defeat. There were friendly 
cliffs and caves in the neighborhood, but 
in the storm's wild confusion the half- 
conscious man could not locate them. Yet 
he knew that he must find a refuge where 
he could rest for a few moments or he 
would lose the battle. At last he crawled 
under a heavy clump of bushes, roofed 
with snow and ice. 

There, not more than two miles from 
the home of the friend whose hearthstone 
he had left an hour before, the pioneer 
was lost in a neighborhood where, under 
ordinary conditions, he would have 
known well every foot of soil, where even 
the trees would have served him as guide- 
posts. But there was no fright in the 
stout heart of Isom Enlow. He peered 
through the lattice of ice, hoping to find 
a familiar landmark that would enable 
him to get his bearings and to resume his 
journey. But his beclouded eyes saw 
nothing save the whirling mists. He 



30 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

rubbed bis limbs and beat bimself witb bis 
big frozen bands to warm bis blood — to 
make ready for another round with the 
storm — then, pulling bimself to his feet, 
be moved slowly on among the snowclad 
trees. 

Somewhere in that vicinity, Thomas 
Lincoln had built a cabin upon a bill — a 
one-room cabin of small logs. Isom En- 
low had helped to build it, but now every- 
thing was strange to him. He traveled as 
one in a dense fog. Those great sheets of 
snow were waving around him and above 
him. Suddenly, without warning, the 
stalwart woodsman plunged down a preci- 
pice ten feet high and rolled to the snow- 
covered rocks below. Stunned and bewil- 
dered, be clamored to his feet. Then 
smiled hopefully, for he had fallen over 
the cliff sheltering the cave-spring at the 
foot of the steep hill upon which Thomas 
Lincoln had built his cabin. 

With renewed energy, Mr. Enlow scram- 
bled up the hill and pushed his way, unin- 



THE DELIVERANCE 31 

vited, into the cabin. It was miserably 
desolate and cold. He staggered to the 
fireplace to find only a few smoldering 
coals buried in the ashes. There came a 
faint cry from the corner of the room. 
Upon a bedstead, made of saplings on 
which was a tick of straw, lay a woman 
and a little girl, both too weak from cold 
and hunger and illness to speak except in 
the faintest whisperings. 

**0h, I am so ill, and I am afraid my 
baby is dead," the woman said in a sob- 
bing whimper. ^ ' Won 't you do something 
for us ? " she begged. 

Rubbing his eyes and drawing closer to 
the bed, Mr. Enlow saw the little girl; 
then he said, **Mrs. Lincoln, this is Isom 
Enlow; don't you recognize me? The lit- 
tle girl is alive and will soon be all right." 

"Not the little girl, Mr. Enlow," an- 
swered the faint quivering voice ; "I have 
a baby, a boy, born early this morning. 
Oh, Mr. Enlow, do something for him," 
she pleaded. 



32 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

The backwoodsman raised the scant 
covering and there lay an infant, blue 
from cold, with nothing over it but the 
light bed-clothes. The little drawn face 
had upon it the imprint of death, and Mr. 
Enlow believed he had come too late. 

There was not a piece of wood in the 
cabin, nothing with which to rekindle the 
fire. Hurriedly he seized an ax and went 
again into the storm. Beating the snow 
and ice from limbs and twigs, he broke 
them into pieces, and then, realizing how 
precious the moments were, he ran back 
into the cabin with barely enough kin- 
dling to restart the fast dying embers. Out 
and back he went again and again until 
the fire finally leaped high and bright in 
the stick-chimney. Then Mr. Enlow 
warmed the bed-clothing and wrapped it 
about the mother and her baby. 

He rubbed them gently with his rough 
hands and soothed Mrs. Lincoln with 
promises that he would soon make them 
more comfortable. Continuing to apply 



THE DELIVERANCE 33 

the warm covering, the backwoodsman 
soon was rewarded with, a faint whimper 
from the infant and a glance of gratitude 
from the mother. Enlow searched every- 
where in the cabin for a morsel of food, 
but the rough shelves were as bare as the 
walls. He thought of game in the fields 
and woods, but everything had sought 
shelter, and besides it would be sheer folly 
to go out into the storm again. 

But something must be done to get food 
for the mother and her children. He re- 
membered that in his pocket was a small 
earthen jar of wild turkey grease which 
he used to clean the rifles of his gun. In 
that grease there was nourishment, per- 
haps ; at least he must try it in this dire 
emergency. Adding some boiling water, 
Mr. Enlow made what he called soup, and 
after much persuasion Mrs. Lincoln 
sipped some of the unpleasant concoction. 
Then he dipped a string into the melted 
grease and put one end of it into the 
mouth of the infant. 



34 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

Never did physician watcli more closely 
at the bedside of his patient than did Isom 
Enlow watch for sign of life on that win- 
try twelfth of February in the year 1809. 

The little girl, Sarah Lincoln, sipped 
the hot greasy water, and insisted in her 
childish way that her mother drink more 
of the bitter stuff. When Isom Enlow^ 
took the cup from the hand of the little 
girl and said to Mrs. Lincoln "Drink," 
she obeyed him mechanically and without 
thought of herself. Her heart and her 
hope were in the baby — the boy — that 
''long, eel-like string of famished flesh," 
as Austin Gollaher put it, lying there by 
her side upon the tick of straw. Almost 
too weak to turn her throbbing head, she 
watched for further signs of life in the in- 
fant and when she saw its purple lips 
tighten upon the grease-soaked string, 
happy tears came into her eyes and she 
said, ''The child will live." 

The improvement in the baby was as 
tonic to Mrs. Lincoln ; she immediately be- 



THE DELIVERANCE 35 

came brighter and stronger, ready to wage 
the winning fight — that fight which gave 
to America its great commoner — the em- 
bodiment of the promise that all are cre- 
ated equal and that there shall be neither 
master nor bond-servant. 

But food must be found somewhere; 
the mother and her children must have 
nourishment. So Enlow told Mrs. Lin- 
coln he was going to the nearest neigh- 
bor's, and that he would return during the 
day with food and help. Then with a word 
of cheer, and a wave of the hand, he 
stooped through the low door of the cabin 
out into the woods again to face the storm. 



CHAPTER IV 

GREAT REJOICING 

The storm had abated somewhat, but 
the skies were still oppressively gray and 
the wind still strong enough to break the 
weakest twigs and limbs and scatter them 
over the fields and through the forests. 
Isom Enlow stood upon the high hill in 
front of the cabin, his heavy coat of skins 
pulled tightly about him. He was unde- 
cided. Should he go to Gabriel Kirkpat- 
rick's, two miles to the west, or to the 
home of Jimmie McDougal, a good two 
and a half miles to the south, or his own 
home some four miles to the east ? Believ- 
ing it his duty to let his family know that 
he had safely escaped the blizzard, he 
turned his face eastward. 
36 



GREAT REJOICING 37 

His steps were slow, but there was de- 
termination in his heart and soul. His 
mission was one of love and charity — 
those two beautiful qualities so deeply 
rooted in pioneer hearts — and if success- 
ful three lives would be saved. If unsuc- 
cessful, if he should perish out there in 

the woods, it would mean But at the 

thought his muscles grew tense, his head 
lifted, determination blazed on his red 
rough face, and he trudged forth along 
the pathless waste. 

He had not gone far when his keen ears, 
deeply hidden beneath the cape-like collar 
of his fur coat, caught the faint sound of 
crunching snow. His grip tightened on 
his rifle and he stood at attention behind 
a tree, ready to send a bullet through the 
heart of a deer. But there upon the brow 
of a near-by hill, picking their way with 
precision, were a man and a woman and a 
mule. Their heads were bowed so that 
they did not see Mr. Enlow, who shouted 
to attract them. 



38 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

''Gollaher! Oh, Gollaher!" excitedly 
called the pioneer. "The Jehovah sent 
you; I am glad; the Lord has been good 
to me this day!" And upon his knees, a 
mile from the Lincoln cabin, there among 
the snow-drifts, Isom Enlow thanked God 
for His merciful goodness. 

Mrs. Gollaher knew of the expected 
confinement of Mrs. Lincoln, and not- 
withstanding the blizzard she and her 
husband had struggled to reach the little 
cabin in time. Strapped to the back of 
the mule were sacks containing corn-meal 
and bacon, dried apples and peaches, 
roots of sassafras bushes for tea, butter 
and eggs and bed-clothing. Following the 
trail Mr. Enlow had made, the three 
friends were soon spreading good cheer 
before a blazing wood fire in Thomas Lin- 
coln's cabin home. 

While Enlow and Gollaher chopped 
wood in the forest and piled it high within 
easy reach of the house, Mrs. Gollaher, af- 
ter Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah were made 



GREAT REJOICING 39 

comfortable, wrapped the new baby in a 
blanket of wool and held it close to her 
warm motherly bosom until a whimper, 
a faint wail, assured her that all present 
danger was past. Then there was great 
rejoicing in the rude little home among 
the trees, and Isom Enlow, his long hair 
falling back from his high forehead, lifted 
his hands to the very roof of the cabin and 
said, "I thank thee. Lord, for the strength 
thou gave to me this day." Then to Mrs. 
Lincoln: "Name the child ^Abraham' 
after my son, of whom I am very fond." 

"I will call him Abraham, for that 
too was his grandfather's name," she re- 
plied, a hapiDy smile of gratitude upon her 
face. 



Note. — There is a tradition that Thomas Lincoln, 
on the morning of the birth of his son, Abraham, in 
going across the fields for a mid-wife, met Abraham 
Enlow (a son of Isom Enlow) riding a horse, and that 
he (Lincoln) borrowed the horse from young Enlow 
and rode it to the home of "old Aunt Peggy Walters," 
who, the tradition further says, ministered to Mrs. Lin- 
coln. But Mr. Gollaher contended that this tradition is 
in error; that Mr. Lincoln was not at home when Abra- 
ham was born, and that he did not reach home until 
the following day; that three or four days before the 
birth of the son, he had gone to Elizabethtown, a dis- 
tance of some fifteen miles from his home, to attend to 



40 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 



an important business matter; that he expected to re- 
turn the following day, but that neither man nor beast 
could travel in that fearful blizzard and he was forced 
to remain away until weather conditions improved; 
that upon his return the following day he was sorely 
grieved that his wife had given birth to their son under 
such distressing circumstances, and that in tears, he 
knelt by the bed of his wife and begged the forgiveness 
of his "beautiful Nancy," as he always called her; that 
in the early afternoon of the following day Mr. Lincoln 
went to the home of a Mrs. Keith, a mid-wife, riding 
a horse which he borrowed from Abraham Enlow, who 
was on his way to the Hodgen Mill with a turn of corn, 
and that the Enlow boy remained in the Lincoln cabin 
until Mr. Lincoln returned with the old woman, who 
relieved Mrs. Gollaher. 

Peggy Walters was buried in the old South Ford 
burying-ground, near Cave Spring or Lincoln Farm. A 
crude stone on her grave shows that she was born in 
1791, therefore she was but eighteen j'^ears old when 
Abraham Lincoln was born. At that age she could 
hardly have been a mid-wife. 



CHAPTER V 

A WONDERFUL CHILD 

The stars came out that night, and the 
pioneers heard the breaking of the 
crusted snow beneath the feet of stirring 
animals as they sought food in the valleys 
and on the hills. 

Under these frightful conditions, Abra- 
ham Lincoln came into the world. On 
the winds of a blizzard he came — across 
the battle-fields of ice and snow, in the 
roar of the hurricane — frozen and 
starved. And there beneath a cabin roof, 
through which his mother saw the morn- 
ing stars among the shifting clouds, he 
found life and made of it a wonderful and 
a beautiful thing. 

After weeks of nursing, the mother and 
41 



42 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

the boy Abraham were carried in the 
anus of Thomas Lincoln out into the sun- 
shine ; and there upon the hillside, above 
the crystal water of the cave-spring, they 
breathed deep of the healing spring air 
and waxed strong. The child grew rap- 
idly, so rapidly that parents and neigh- 
bors were astonished. Jimmie McDougal 
said: *'If the Cave Spring Farm could 
grow Indian corn like it's growing that 
baby, Thomas Lincoln would raise such a 
crop that he wouldn't know what to do 
with it." 

Abraham's face seemed stolid at times, 
yet there was always an illuminating lit- 
tle twinkle, a forerunner of the humor to 
come. A wonderful child the pioneers 
thought him, and none who ever saw him 
even while he was yet toddling, forgot him 
because of his size and his attractive 
strangeness. In his babyhood, as later, he 
obeyed his father and mother implicitly. 
And his love for his mother and her ' ' fool- 
ishness" over little Abe were items of 



A WONDERFUL CHILD 43 

neighborhood gossip. Some said that God 
came down to the world that February 
morning and went with Isom Enlow to 
that hill where to-day is enshrined behind 
polished marble those rough logs which 
sheltered the great mother when she gave 
to the world her immortal son. 

"Somebody asked why God did not 
quiet the storm," said Mr. Gollaher, *'but 
the folks replied by saying, 'The myster- 
ies of God can not be understood, and we 
shall not try to understand them. ' It was 
just the Master's way of doing things," 
he continued. ^'I reckon He wanted to 
give to the world an example of what a 
baby born under such conditions could do 
for the people. Had Abe been born some- 
where in a big fine house, it might have 
been lots harder for God to have kept self- 
ishness out of his heart." 



CHAPTER VI 

THE BINDING TIE 

Over a century ago somebody blazed a 
trail from the Knob Creek hills to the 
south fork of Nolynn River, a distance of 
five miles as the crow flies. The path 
broadened as it was traveled by the set- 
tlers until it became a small road over 
which a horse could jog along with ease, 
but it was used mostly as a footpath, 
branching off here and there like the 
limbs of a tree, leading here and there to 
the pioneer homes of that large section of 
country. 

Along this path some time during the 
summer of 1812, Mrs. Gollaher, the wife 
of Thomas Gollaher, carefully made her 
way westward. Tall and attractive, vig- 

44 



THE BINDING TIE 45 

orous physically and mentally, she was a 
leader among the women of her day and 
beloved because of her universal good- 
ness. Under her strong arm Mrs. Golla- 
her carried a rifle, and from her rawhide 
belt swung a knife and an ax, while across 
the young shoulders of her son, Austin, 
who followed her that summer morning, a 
rifle rested. They were prepared to de- 
fend themselves against the possible at- 
tack of some wild animal as they made 
their way to the Cave Spring Farm, the 
home of the Lincolns. 

It was one of the poorest farms in that 
whole section of wild country; but from 
the spring in the cave flowed a pure cold 
water, and it was this that attracted 
Thomas Lincoln to the place. When his 
friends tried to persuade him to move to 
a community more settled, or to a farm 
more fertile, he would always answer by 
saying he could not leave the ^'good water 
on the bad farm." Rich soil meant little 
to Mr. Lincoln ; he was not a farmer, and 



46 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

the cultivating and growing of crops were 
of small interest to him. He loved the 
damp gray woods ; and the bark of the red 
fox was more pleasing to him than the 
rustle of growing corn. 

*' There's a gobbler '' but before the 

mother could complete the sentence, Aus- 
tin's rifle cracked, and a big fat turkey 
gobbler rolled over the cliff with a bullet 
hole through its breast. Mrs. Gollaher 
did not comment on the marksmanship of 
her son, since she had seen him do the 
same thing many times before. That day 
they had turkey for dinner in the Lincoln 
cabin, and that day Austin Gollaher, aged 
six, and Abraham Lincoln, aged three, be- 
came friends. 

** Austin has brought Abraham a tur- 
key, ' ' said ]\Irs. Gollaher. * ' Shall we have 
it for dinner?" Then back of the cabin 
they kindled a fire, boiled the water and 
picked the feathers from the big bird. 
Mrs. Gollaher gave the wings to Sarah 
Lincoln, and the claws to Abraham and 







m 



THE BINDING TIE 47 

Austin, saying: ''Sarah can fan her 
sweetheart with the wings and Abraham 
and Austin can use the claws to scratch 
the deviPs eyes out if he ever comes about 
them." 

"I had, of course, seen Abe many times 
before this visit, both in his home and 
mine," said Mr. Gollaher, the man, "but 
there had been something so strange about 
him that I had paid little attention to him. 
However, upon this occasion, something 
new developed in him — something that 
made me feel different toward him — and 
I loved him. I wanted to cling to him, to be 
with him so that I might watch his funny, 
serious antics, each one having in it some- 
thing I had never seen the like of before. 

"He was different — he was unusually 
amusing and at the same time pathetic. 
Why, he even had a way of plucking a 
wild rose, of picking up a leaf that was 
different. And he looked at me in such a 
knowing way that I was always expecting 
his baby lips to open and tell me a sad or 



48 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

frightful story. Mrs. Lincoln called him 
Abraham, but my mother and I called him 
Abe. Abraham was too much for my boy- 
tongue. Even after he became president 
I called him Abe, for I loved it ; it carried 
me back to the days of my childhood 
among the hills here, and seemed to flood 
my heart with memories of my most loved 
playmate. To my mind there is no pret- 
tier name than the old-time bob-tailed 
name of Abe. 

"Abe was a good-sized lad at three,** 
continued Mr. Gollaher, "but he would 
not, or could not, talk. He just looked on 
while I played around the spring, never 
smiling or whimpering, or indicating in 
any way that he wanted to do more than 
follow where I led; and when I looked 
back upon that first day of my real ac- 
quaintance with Abe Lincoln and think 
of the Great Leader of Men, following me, 
it amuses me a great deal. 

"I cut two sassafras sticks and 
trimmed them. Placing a stick between 



THE BINDING TIE 49 

Abe's long funny legs and straddling an- 
other, I tried to interest him in playing 
horse, but he only stood and looked at me. 
Then I said to him: 'Hit your horse and 
make it go.' Then he hit the stick-horse 
with his switch and followed me around 
the cliff which sheltered the spring. 

"Abe wouldn't play much that after- 
noon, but he stayed with me until mother 
and I started home. I wanted to take him 
along with me, but Mrs. Lincoln laughed 
and said she couldn't 'spare' him. He 
had impressed me so deeply that I could 
not forget him, and, in my child mind, I 
knew that my friendship for Abe Lincoln 
was firmly and eternally established. For 
days I thought of him; I wanted to see 
him again ; I wanted to see if I could get 
him to talk to me — to tell me one of those 
strange stories I believed was in his soul, 
and I annoyed my mother until she again 
took me to see him. During the next visit, 
Abe and I became better friends ; that is 
to say, Abe became more friendly with me. 



50 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

To my surprise, he brought forth the two 
stick-horses I had left with him and 
lisped * Horse' as he offered me one." 

After this fashion, as related by Mr. 
Gollaher, the lad, Austin, and the child, 
Abe, products of the backwoods, estab- 
lished a loyal friendship, and for a num- 
ber of years were constant, almost 
inseparable companions. In the heart of 
Austin Gollaher, a heart which grew old 
among his native hills, there was ever a 
mellow, wonderful love for Abraham Lin- 
coln, and it is said that when he came to 
die out there among ''his rocks and rills" 
nearly a quarter of a century ago, his 
withered old lips quivered ''Abe" as his 
soul took its flight. 

There were those at his bedside who be- 
lieved he spoke to Abe on the other side of 
the River; that the backwoods boys had 
met again, and that the immortal Lincoln, 
who conquered greatly and who died a 
martyr, was happy once more now that 
his playmate had come to join him. 



CHAPTER VII 

A NEW HOME 

In" none of the pioneers was the spirit 
of restlessness more active than in 
Thomas Lincoln. He could not settle 
down to the work of establishing himself 
comfortably in the community in which 
he lived. He intended to improve his 
home conditions, to build a better and 
larger house, just as soon as he could find 
a location to suit his fancy. He was not 
lazy, neither was he thrifty, but he was a 
procrastinator to his own and to his fam- 
ily's distress of mind and body. He spent 
most of his time planning and put little 
into execution. 

He would stay at home closely for a 

51 



52 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

period and would work industriously; 
then, without ceremony, and hardly with- 
out explanation, he would pick up his 
flintlock rifle, cram his pockets full of 
ammunition, grind his ax, sharpen his 
knife and disappear in the wilderness. He 
might be gone a day, a week, or a month. 
His wife, who knew his habits well, did 
not suffer uneasiness because of his fre- 
quently prolonged absences. Indeed, 
when he left she did not look for him back 
until she found him pushing his way 
through the door of their cabin home with 
a cheery smile for his "beautiful Nancy." 
His absence from home when his son 
was born grieved him very much ; he wept 
when he heard from Mrs. Gollaher the 
story of his wife's suffering. But Mrs. 
Gollaher did not let his grief stop her 
from lecturing him on his domestic care- 
lessness. She could see no excuse for the 
empty larder, or for the always scant 
wood-pile, since there were both game and 
wood in abundance. She insisted that he 



A NEW HOME 53 

make arrangements at once to move his 
family to a farm on Knob Creek, within 
hailing distance of her own home. Mr. 
Lincoln promised to consider the matter, 
and he did, for four years. Then he 
moved. 

While Mr. Lincoln was, beyond doubt, 
shiftless and apparently satisfied to live 
from hand to mouth, he was never accused 
of deliberate neglect of his family. He 
seemed anxious enough to try to please 
them, but the roving spirit had him and he 
could not resist the temptation to see what 
folk were doing in *'far-away places." 
He was an expert trapper and hunter and 
knew more about the woods and the hab- 
its of animals than any of his neighbors, 
but he thought his wife could kill enough 
game to meet the immediate needs of her- 
self and their little daughter, Sarah, 
while he was away on his trail-blazing, 
hunting expeditions. 

Mrs. Lincoln used to say laughingly: 
** Thomas believes the game thinks enough 



54 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

of me to come around to find out if I am 
in need of meat." 

For a long time after the birth of Abra- 
ham, Mr. Lincoln stayed close at home 
and applied himself during the summer 
to the cultivation of small plats of ground 
and during the winter to odd jobs of saw- 
and-hatchet work for his neighbors. In 
the winter of 1811-12, he had steady work 
at the Hodgen Mill, and would frequently 
carry Abraham a distance of over two 
miles to spend the day with Mrs. Hodgen, 
the miller's mother. But in the latter 
part of the winter, the roving spirit again 
asserted itself and Mr. Lincoln left home 
to look at some land in Indiana bordering 
the Ohio River. On his return, he ex- 
pressed himself as well pleased and talked 
of moving to that state. However, to 
please his wife who was in poor health, he 
gave up the idea for the time being and 
seemed contented in the thought that he 
was humoring his Nancy. 

The Lincolns continued to live in the 



A NEW HOME 55 

cabin where Abraham was bom until the 
spring of 1813, when they moved to the 
farm near that of the Gollahers. Abra- 
ham was now more than four years old, 
but Mrs. Lincoln had not recovered from 
the illness incident to his birth, and to 
that of a later son who died when quite 
young and who was buried in the woods 
on the banks of the south fork of Nolynn 
River, a short distance from the Lincoln 
farm. 

All were happier in their new home be- 
cause they were so near their good 
friends. Mrs. Lincoln improved in 
health ; Mr. Lincoln applied himself more 
closely to the farm, and the two children 
were stronger and better than they had 
been at Cave Spring. The cabin home 
was more commodious, and the general 
surroundings were more inviting. 

A daily association immediately sprang 
up between Abraham Lincoln and Austin 
Gollaher — an association so remarkable 
in its pleasing effect upon both boys that 



56 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

Thomas Gollaher suggested to Thomas 
Lincoln that they yoke them together like 
steers. This remark so impressed Abra- 
ham that the next day he very seriously 
asked his father when he and Mr. Golla- 
her were going to ''make that yoke." 
Notwithstanding Abraham was three 
years younger than Austin, he was quite 
as large physically, while his mind was 
that of a child very much older. 

It was in the Knob Creek hills sur- 
rounding the homes of the Gollahers and 
the Lincolns that most of the incidents 
and adventures here related occurred — 
incidents that were kept fresh in the mem- 
ory of Austin Gollaher by the unusual 
sayings of the boy Lincoln, and later by 
the towering greatness of the man. When 
Mr. Lincoln became president, Mr. Golla- 
her very naturally went to the store-house 
of memory for anecdotes of his and Lin- 
coln's boyhood in the wilderness, and he 
found many and told them to his neighbors 
during a period of many years. 



A KEW HOME 57 

Down at Hodgen Mill the pioneers were 
one day discussing various topics when 
Isom Enlow incidentally remarked to 
Thomas Lincoln that Abe had been named 
after his son, Abraham Enlow. Mr. Lin- 
coln replied that he was mistaken, that the 
boy had been named after his Grand- 
father Lincoln. There was a good-natured 
argument over the naming of the boy, and 
the question was finally referred to Mrs. 
Lincoln for settlement. Very quickly and 
emphatically she replied: "Yes, Abra- 
ham was named after Mr. Enlow 's son; 
I gave him that name myself, for I could 
never repay JMr. Enlow 's kindness; but," 
she added, ''since Mr. Lincoln's father 
was Abraham, it is all right to let my boy 
be named after both. ' ' 

''I'm named after two people," Abra- 
ham said to Austin one day, "and I 
reckon my name is 'Abraham Abraham 
Lincoln,' so I'm mighty glad, Austin, that 
you just call me *Abe.' " 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 

Down on Knob Creek there was a big 
flat rock thrust out from the side of the 
cliff as though there wasn't space for it 
within. Underneath it there was room 
for a nice play-house, and on top of it am- 
ple space to build a child-world. The top 
was smooth and slightly slanting like the 
roof of a flat-top house; above it were 
projecting rocks, covered with running 
vines. It was an ideal place for boys to 
meet their imaginary friends and ene- 
mies, to build castles in the air, to fight 
battles with the Indians, or to kill bears 
and lions, and then, getting away from 
their bewildering and heroic imagina- 
tions, to lie down and listen to the restful 
trickling of the mountain stream. 

58 



THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 59 

On this rock, Abe and Austin fought 
many victorious battles and dreamed the 
long thoughts of youth as they looked out 
over the wonderful world of their imagin- 
ing. Abe called the rock 'Hhe Nice Stone," 
and it could not have been better named. 
Its surface was kept polished by the over- 
flowing waters of Knob Creek, and Fa- 
ther Time had made steps to it, so that the 
top, four or five feet above the level of the 
ground, could be reached without over- 
hand climbing. 

For two years, when the weather al- 
lowed, the boys made the Nice Stone 
their haven, but when they grew older 
they were kept pretty busy helping make 
ready against the winter. 

''We were more than 'half -hands,' " 
said Mr. Gollaher, "and much more than 
worth our 'board and keep.' We could 
even fell good-sized trees, or at least we 
thought them good-sized, and by begin- 
ning early in the spring and by keeping 
it up at odd times through the summer 



60 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

and fall, Abe and I would chop as likely a 
pile of wood as anybody. We were also 
handy with the hoe. So, you see,'' con- 
tinued Mr. Gollaher, "our daddies found 
us out and kept us humping most of the 
time. , 

"But the Nice Stone was so alluring to 
Abe and me that we occasionally played 
off on our fathers and went there for a 
* skirmish' when we were expected to be at 
our task. However, we soon got caught 
at that trick by father and Mr. Lincoln, 
who led us by the ears through the woods 
to the clearing where we were at work and 
threatened to give us a good tanning if we 
were ever again guilty of shirking our 
duties. You see, it was very important in 
those days for everybody to keep pegging 
away. It was a big job to clear and clean 
up land and cultivate crops because our 
tools and implements were very poor, and 
to lose time through idleness was consid- 
ered mighty dishonorable." 

It was in the spring — one of those first 



THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 61 

bright warm days when every normal boy 
longs for the green hills and the blossom- 
ing valleys. Nature beckoned, and Abe 
and Austin obeyed ; they went to the Nice 
Stone. Abe was standing upon the rock, 
looking down into the clean water of 
Kaob Creek. ^* There's a fish," he said, 
"in the pool down there," and he pointed 
his long finger at a floundering black bass 
that had, in some way, wandered from the 
main stream. It was a big one and the 
boys, when they reached the pool, had 
some trouble in landing it. 

Suddenly there came a terrible crash, 
and the boys were covered with small 
pieces of stone and many clods of dirt, for 
an immense rock had dropped from the 
cliff above squarely down upon the spot 
where a moment before Abe had stood. 
Austin, badly frightened, was ready to 
flee, but Abe stood quiet for a moment 
and then with a little concern asked: 
**What do you reckon caused that?" 

"I don't know what caused it," an- 



62 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

swered Austin, still alarmed, *'but I do 
know it didn't miss you very much, and if 
it had hit you it would have mashed your 
head off." 

*'It missed me a heap," Abe quietly 
said. "It missed me as far as it is from 
here to the Nice Stone." 

"Well, it missed you just about a min- 
ute," retorted Austin, "and if you go 
there to play any more, you'll have to go 
by yourself, because there are two more 
rocks hanging up there and one of them 
might fall any time." 

"Another rock might not fall there 
again as long as we live, Austin, but we 
won't play around there any more, be- 
cause if one of them did fall and kill you, 
I'd feel like I was the cause of it." 

"When we told our mothers of the 
near-accident, we were warned not to visit 
the rock again, and it was a long time 
before we returned there," said Mr. 
GoUaher. "But Abe didn't seem to think 
anything at all about his miraculous 



THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 63 

escape, and when I mentioned it he talked 
about what a big fish we caught out of the 
pool. We missed the Nice Stone, and 
were often tempted to resume our play 
there, but I was afraid, and since Abe's 
mother had told him he must not, he could 
not have been persuaded to disobey her. 

<'Why, I'll tell you," said the old man, 
full of sincerity, ''God watched over Abe 
Lincoln; He didn't want him killed, be- 
cause there were no others like him; and 
He wanted to use Abe for a big purpose ; 
and He didn't want to go to the trouble to 
make another like him, ' ' continued the ex- 
cited and emphatic Mr. Gollaher. "Had 
I been upon the Nice Stone alone, that big 
boulder would have hit me square upon 
the head and mashed every bone in my 
body. Abe's presence saved me. And 
don't you know, I got it into my child- 
head that God was watching over me, too, 
so that I could keep Abe company and 
amuse him with some of my antics. When 
I was with Abe I had a sort of safe and se- 



64 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

cure feeling — a feeling that nothing of 
any serious consequence could happen to 
either of us. There was something that 
caused me to look upon that long-leg boy 
in wonder. It was no surprise to me when 
I heard Abe had been elected president. 
I reckon I saved Abe's life two or three 
times, but if I hadn't been there to do it, 
God would have saved him in some other 
way. I wasn't a bit scared the time they 
raised such a fuss about Abe being lost, 
and I told my mother that he 'd turn up all 
right. Mother asked me why I thought 
so, and I told her that God was looking af- 
ter Abe. Then mother smiled and said to 
me : * Well, we are going out with torches 
to look for him anyhow, and we are all 
praying that God will guide us to him. ' 

''Once I asked Abe if he believed the 
devil stayed down deep under the ground, 
and to my surprise he said; 'No sir-ee, I 
don't; I believe he's in the woods and ev- 
erywhere; when he's around here I think 
he spends most of his time in the heart of 



THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 65 

old Mr. Evans. ' Abe was always answer- 
ing me in that curious way, curious for a 
boy at least. 

"I never liked to go to the Hodgen Mill 
alone," said the old man, "although I car- 
ried a rifle and could shoot straight as 
any one. I had an uneasy feeling when I 
was out on that old lonesome road by my- 
self. But Abe, when he was less than six 
years old, went alone, carried his corn and 
didn't seem to mind it. It was a distance, 
too, of about four miles from here, and the 
country was pretty rough and gloomy. I 
felt skittish without Abe, and father made 
fun of me when I told him it was too dan- 
gerous for a boy to make the trip alone, 
that some day I might meet a big wild ani- 
mal and that if my aim wasn't good, it 
would kill me and then nobody would ever 
know what became of me. Father just 
laughed and said I was big enough to kill 
a bear with my naked hands, adding that 
he knew what I was up to, that I just 
wanted 'Abe Lincoln to go with me.' 



r>(; TIII^: P.OYIIOOD 0¥ LiNCOL>^ 

"Abe, would n't learn to shoot a gun, and' 
didn't ('.-iny one;," Mr. Oollalicr said, bit- 
iri<^ off .■uiotbcr- dicw oi' liis "stoi'c; to- 
bacco." 'M>iit liis father made hirn carry 
:\. Uni ('(i and a, small ax. (My grandfather, 
who wjis a bl.'icksiriith, made the ax for 
him.) Well, it was finally arranged so 
tliat Ab(^ Jiiid I conld make most of the 
trips to tlie mill together, but occasionally 
sonudhing woidd happen, either with 
Abe's family oi* mine, that would make it 
necessary for ns to go Jilone; and don't 
you know 1 actually refused to go without 
Abe; T was mortally afraid, and two or 
three timers father found it necessary to 
start me with a hickory. But if Abe was 
over afrjvid to go without me, he never 
mc^ntioned it. 

**I never often saw Abe excited," he 
continued, '^but on one occasion when a 
small wildcat attacked his dog, 'Honey,' 
and Abe thought he was going to be killed, 
he got so nervoHs he danced a jig and 
yelled to mc to shoot the cat, but before I 



THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 67 

could shoot, Ilonoy, minus a little hair, 
went one way and the cat another. Then 
Ah)e, taking a hig- long breath, said: 'I 
was scared, Austin, because it looked like 
that wildcat was going to skin Honey 
alive.' " 

Mr. Gollaher gazed across the little 
field in front of his home to the hills, and 
half to himself he asked: 

"Why was that pool made in the edge 
of Knob Creek ? Why did the fish get into 
the jjooI, and why did it flounder two min- 
utes before that stone fell?" And then 
\i(t answered his own questions, saying: 
"Just God's mysterious way of doing 
things. ' ' 



CHAPTER IX 

NEW FRIENDS 

The narrow road, which, like a huge 
rusty snake, wound its way through the 
Knob Creek hills to Hodgen's Mill, was 
bordered by hundreds of great forest 
trees, *' three-footers" the natives called 
them. It was the custom to cut awa}^ the 
bark for a space possibly a foot square, 
smooth it down carefully and then upon 
the bright surface inscribe notes, bits of 
doggerel or directions to the passing 
stranger. This method of woodland cor- 
respondence became so popular that many 
romantic settlers carried with them a wil- 
low twig brush and a small container 
filled with pokeberry ink. It was like the 
gay days in the Forest of Arden when Or- 
lando wrote his love-notes to Rosalind. 
68 



NEW FRIENDS 69 

Thomas Gollaher had just trimmed a 
smooth spot upon the trunk of a big tree 
and was preparing to ''indite" a letter — 
a simple, three or four word letter, in 
which he would find amusement, but oth- 
ers would perhaps see nothing except a 
senseless scrawling ^when a short dis- 
tance ahead of him he saw young Lincoln 
trudging along with a good-sized dog un- 
der one arm and a small sack of meal upon 
the opposite shoulder. It was a heavy 
load, very much too heavy for the lad, big 
as he was, and he carelessly threw the sack 
of meal down under a clump of bushes, 
then very gently placed the dog on the 
ground beside it. The day was hot, and 
under his burden Abe was steaming and 
perspiring. He fanned himself with a 
bunch of leaves and dropped down beside 
the dog. The curious Mr. GoUaher 
slipped noiselessly from behind one big 
tree to another, Indian-fashion, until he 
was within a few feet of Abe. Then he 
watched and listened. 



70 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

Abe was holding the dog close to his 
breast, calling it ''Honey" and talking to 
it most sympathetically. Again he placed 
it on the ground by the bag of meal, and 
went to a small spring across the road and 
brought back a cap full of water which he 
gave the dog to drink. Then he took a 
hunting laiife from his belt and quickly 
whittled out two rude splints. Next he 
peeled the bark from some pawpaw 
bushes, placed a splint on each side of the 
dog's right foreleg and wrapped it with 
the soft pliable bark. The wounded dog 
licked Abe's hands and face, and whined 
its thanks into his ear. The new friends 
loved each other — the boy because it was 
natural for him, out of his sympathetic 
heart, to love that which suffered, and the 
dog out of gratitude for the great kind- 
ness shown him. 

*'By holy, he's fixed that dog's broken 
leg!" exclaimed the astonished Gollaher 
in a voice that Abe overheard. Realizing 
that he had disclosed his presence he 



NEW FRIENDS 71 

stepped out from his listening-post and 
asked if he could be of any assistance to 
"Doctor Abraham." 

Without displaying the slightest sur- 
prise over the sudden interruption, the 
boy quietly asked Mr. Gollaher for a piece 
of rawhide, and the two finished the job 
by wrapping tightly the bark and the 
splints. 

"Give me another piece of rawhide, 
please, Mr. Gollaher, to tie around the 
dog's neck, so I can fasten him to a stob.'' 

"All right, Abe ; here it is, but don't you 
know the sun is about down and you are 
at least a mile from home? Your 
pappy '11 tan your hide when you get 
there. Now, you'd better move along; 
I 'm going the other way, just as soon as I 
write my letter." And he stepped over 
to the tree which he had prepared for his 
inscription. 

"I'll tell you what I'll write," said Mr. 
Gollaher with a humorous twinkle in his 
eye. "I'll just say 'Abe-ee got a dog.' " 



72 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

**Now, please, Mr. Gollaher, don't tell 
father about the dog," begged Abe, "for 
he might try to kill it to put it out of its 
misery ; and I want it to get well, so Aus- 
tin and I can play with it. " 

Mr. Gollaher promised, and Abe turned 
homeward, his sack of meal over his 
shoulder, the dog hopping on three legs at 
his side. Then upon the tree, the woods- 
man wrote, in ragged letters : 

"ABE L. GOT A DORG." 

Abe trudged along stopping now and 
then to pat the dog on the head, and to as- 
sure it that the broken leg would soon be 
well. When in hailing distance of his 
home he paused to reconnoiter and to 
plan. He must do something with the 
dog ; he must hide it temporarily, because 
there was grave danger that his father 
would kill it. Dropping his bag of meal, 
he hurriedl}'' tied the crippled dog beneath 
a sheltering bush and told it to lie quiet 
until he got back. On reaching home he 



NEW FRIENDS 73 

found Ms mother worried, as usual, be- 
cause of his late arrival, but his explana- 
tion satisfied her and she forgave him. 
Indeed, his excuses were usually well- 
founded. The old mill was slow, and each 
customer had to await his turn. The mil- 
ler, John Hodgen, loved Abe devotedly, 
but he would not violate his rule of ^*first 
come first served," and Abe's turn usu- 
ally came late. 

He never walked briskly ; his was a long 
stride but slow careful step, and he seldom 
hurried, except upon those occasions 
when his father followed with a switch. 
Then, too, he saw m.any things of interest 
along the wooded paths. The squirrel, the 
rabbit, the opossum, and, indeed, every 
wild creature of the woods challenged 
him on his journeys to and from the mill. 
He had been known to lose an hour's time 
chasing a snake through the weeds to res- 
cue a frog from the reptile's greedy 
mouth ; and the young birds along the way 
that happened to fall from their nests 



74 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

found no more eager Samaritan than 
young Abe. He never failed to climb the 
tree and deliver the baby bird safely to its 
mother. There were so many attractions 
in the woods, so many things needing 
Abe's immediate attention, that it wasn't 
surprising he sometimes forgot the corn- 
meal. 

The miller frequently reprimanded Abe 
for his tardiness, and often when it was 
too late for the boy to go home alone 
would saddle "Old Fanny," his mare, and 
deliver him and his bag of meal to his 
home on Knob Creek. And Mr. Hodgen, 
being fond of Abe, usually stretched the 
truth a bit and informed Thomas Lincoln 
that there were many early customers and 
that the boy's turn did not come until late 
for that reason. 

*'Down there by the tall sycamore tree, I 
have a dog tied to a sapling, and its leg is 
broken," Abe whispered to his mother, 
Thomas having fallen asleep in the chim- 
ney corner. ''Please go with me to get 



NEW FEIENDS 75 

him, and helj) me put him in the pen where 
the pigs used to stay; there's a roof over 
it and he won't get wet when it rains." 

In answer to his mother's inquiries he 
then told the story of how he found the 
crippled dog at the foot of a precipice, 
and how he had "fixed" its broken leg. 
"Now," he added, "father won't like the 
dog, but you will like him, and so will 
Sarah, and I want you to beg father not 
to kill him or give him away." 

Mrs. Lincoln, always indulgent of Abra- 
ham, consented, and the two went out 
into the night to find the dog and bring 
him in to his new home — the pig pen. Abe 
carried the wounded animal in his arms, 
patting him and calling him "Honey," as 
they made their way back to the house. 

"You love the dog so much," said his 
mother, when Abraham asked her what to 
name him, "I reckon you'd better call 
him 'Honey'; that was what you called 
him last night when you untied him from 
the sapling." 



76 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

So the dog was christened ^^ Honey.'' 

**He'll do lots of good things for me," 
said Abe to his mother. ^^ You just watch 
and see." 

Mrs. Lincoln smiled, little thinking 
that Honey was to play an important part 
in the lives of the Lincolns. 

When at last, after much careful nurs- 
ing, the crude bandage was removed, Abra- 
ham was terribly distressed to find the 
leg miserably twisted, and he was much 
afraid the dog would never be able to run 
fast. However, Honey developed speed 
that was surprising, and as the leg did not 
pain him or interfere with his activities 
Abe was happy, for physical appearance 
did not count much with him then as ever. 

"Honey was not good to look upon," 
said Mr. Gollaher; *'his twisted leg re- 
minded me of a curve in the road ; but he 
was the smartest dog in the neighborhood, 
and made a fitting companion for Abe 
since both were good and smart and 
ugly." 



CHAPTER X 

THE HODGENS 

Every boy has his hero. John ilodgen, 
the miller, was young Abe's; and Mrs. 
Hodgen, the good man's mother, was his 
heroine. The miller was big, and gentle, 
kind and courageous ; his mother, in Abra- 
ham 's opinion, was beautiful and won- 
derfully wise. She was sixty years of age 
■ — a white-haired widow — ^her husband 
having died in 1810, the year following 
that of Abe's birth — and was the mother 
of several children, all of whom had 
grown to years of discretion before the 
child Lincoln became such a favorite in 
the Hodgen home. It was told that on one 
occasion Abe looked at her snow-white 
hair for several minutes, and said: '*I 
reckon God made your hair white so it 

77 



78 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

would be like an angePs robe." Where 
he got the simile no one ever knew. 

Abraham's first knowledge that there 
is such a country as England, came from 
Mrs. Hodgen, who told him that her hus- 
band, Robert Hodgen, was born there in 
1742. She delighted the child with many 
interesting accounts of that far-away em- 
pire, and thrilled him with stories of her 
husband's perilous voyage across the At- 
lantic. He also learned from Mrs. Hod- 
gen much about Virginia, as she was born 
there in 1757, coming through the great 
dark wilderness to Kentucky with her fa- 
ther, John LaRue, when she was quite 
young. 

At times Abraham apparently enjoyed 
being with boys, but more often he looked 
on their rough play with sad disgust. It 
frequently happened that boys mistook 
cruelty for heroism, and Abe despised 
cruelty wherever he found it. Bravado 
did not thrill him, neither did the bully 
frighten him. 



THE HODGENS 79 

*'One day a lad by the name of Evans 
pulled off the head of a young bird," said 
Mr. Gollaher, ''and threw it at the feet of 
Abe. He did it because he knew it would 
displease Abe, and because he thought it 
was smart for a boy to be cruel. I never 
saw such a look as that which came into 
Abe's face; it changed from the mildness 
of summer to the harshness of winter, and 
he looked at the offending boy until the 
youngster from sheer terror hid his face 
in his hands. To my surprise, the Evans 
boy apologized for his depredation, but 
Abe turned his back upon him and said : 
'Let's go, Austin; I don't want even to 
be close to him.' " 

To the boy Lincoln, John Hodgen, the 
miller, was the biggest man in the world, 
and when the boys teased him and told 
him he was trying to be like "Mr. John," 
he said: "Well, if all of you would try 
to be like Mr. John there wouldn't be 
any need for your parents to watch you to 
try to keep you from doing wrong. ' ' 



80 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

''One bright morning in mid-suninier,'* 
said Mr. Gollaher, ''Abe, Mr. Hodgen and 
I were standing on the platform in front 
of the mill when old Zack Evans rode up 
with a sack of corn. His horse was blind, 
and when he shied away from the plat- 
form Evans gave him a terrific kick in 
the stomach. The poor beast groaned. 
Abe looked at Mr. Hodgen and Mr. Hod- 
gen looked at Abe. 

" 'Zack, why did you kick that horse?' 
asked Mr. Hodgen angrily; 'the blind old 
animal was good enough to bring you and 
your corn to mill, and doesn't deserve 
such treatment. ' 

"For answer Evans kicked the horse 
again. 

"Quicker than a flash, John Hodgen 
grabbed the man by the collar and pinned 
him against the ]3latf orm ; then he raised 
him up and looked into his face and said ; 
'Take your corn away from here, and 
don't you come around me any more; if 
you ever kick that old horse again in my 



THE HODGENS 81 

presence I '11 give you a tlirasliing you will 
remember as long as you live. ' 

"At first I thought the frightened man 
was going to run away, but he soon re- 
gained his senses, and was loud in his 
apologies. He begged Mr. Hodgen to 
grind the corn, which, of course, he did. 

*'It was unusual for Abe to show elation 
over anything and especially over quar- 
rels or fights, but he seemed to get pleas- 
ure out of the shaking Mr. Hodgen gave 
Zack Evans. At the conclusion of the 
apology Abe said rather spiritedly: 
'Your boy pulled off the head of a live 
bird and threw it at my feet the other day 
and he asked me to forgive him just like 
you did Mr. Hodgen. Your boy oughn't 
to do any more birds that way and you 
oughtn't to kick your horse any more.' " 

The mill was on a cliff, overlooking 
Nolynn River, while the home of the Hod- 
gens rested in a pretty grove a quarter of 
a mile to the west on the river bank. It 
was perhaps the most commodious house 



82 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

in that region and was looked upon ad- 
miringly by every pioneer who saw it. It 
was here that Abraham Lincoln gained 
his thirst for knowledge and learned 
many of the simpler lessons of life. So 
ardent was the love of John Hodgen and 
his mother for the boy that they several 
times begged Mrs. Lincoln to give him to 
them, but she always said no to their 
pleadings. For days at a time during the 
winter Abraham would visit them, but af- 
ter a while he would get homesick for his 
mother and sister and Austin, and then 
John Hodgen and his mother would bun- 
dle him up and send him trudging back 
across the hills to Knob Creek. 



CHAPTER XI 

THIEST FOR LEARNING 

Abraham called Jolin Hodgen "Mr. 
John," and Mrs, Hodgen "Missus 
Sarah," but he always called Isaac Hod- 
gen "Mr. Hodgen," because he could not 
pronounce Isaac clearly. Then, too, Mr. 
John and Missus Sarah were his closest 
friends and he doubtless felt it was a lit- 
tle more endearing to use their given 
names. 

From the lips of John Hodgen and his 
mother, the boy learned something of the 
wonders of the world, of far-off lands 
and cities rich and splendid. They told 
him the story of Columbus and stirred his 
latent love of country with the proud 
name of TTashington. Those stories Abe 

83 



84 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

greedily devoured, but he didn't like tales 
of Indian massacres, and when John 
Hodgen teasingly began one of them the 
boy begged for more of George Washing- 
ton or Robinson Crusoe, whose patience 
in teaching "Friday" impressed him 
greatly. 

"Abe said to me one day," related Mr. 
Gollaher, laughingly, "that the reason he 
liked Mr. Crusoe was because he believed 
the adventurer was just like Mr. John, 
that had Mr. John been out there on that 
island, he would have done everything as 
Mr. Crusoe did it." 

From his mother and from Mrs. Hod- 
gen Abraham learned his A B C's. In- 
deed, these two women created in him the 
first thirst for knowledge — that thirst 
w^hich grew as the boy grew, until it be- 
came his first concern, his one great pas- 
sion. With pencils of soapstone, upon 
smooth boards scorched black over the 
backlog fire, Mrs. Hodgen spelled and 
figured and explained, never losing pa- 



THIRST FOR LEARNING 85 

tience in her effort to teach the boy — to 
give him the fundamental three R's. Abe 
was proud of his progress and worked 
faithfully; indeed, he became so studious 
that his father threatened to forbid fur- 
ther *' education," but Mrs. Hodgen 
shamed him out of this and assured him 
that one day he would be exceedingly 
proud of his son, Abraham. However, she 
did not succeed in convincing Mr. Lincoln 
that education was necessary; in fact, he 
told her it was a waste of time, and "a 
piece of foolishness" to interest a boy as 
big and strong as Abraham in "book- 
learning," that such things should be re- 
served for girls, and for boys who were 
small and sickly. 

Each week Mrs. Hodgen would write on 
the burnt board one of the Ten Command- 
ments, and when Abraham came to the 
mill with corn she would read and reread 
it to him until it was pretty well im- 
pressed upon his fresh young mind. Then 
on his next visit to the mill she would read 



86 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 

him a new Commandment and have him 
repeat the one of the previous week. 

Mrs. Hodgen used kindergarten meth- 
ods of her own devising long before kin- 
dergartens were dreamed of. Her ilkis- 
trations were amusing and impressive. 
For example: She would drive three 
sticks or stobs into the ground ; to one she 
would tie a cat, to another a hen, and to 
the third Abraham's dog, and then in the 
ground beside each she would write its 
name : c-a-t, h-e-n, d-o-g. Of course the boy- 
was tremendously interested; he would 
walk from one stob to another, stopping 
and thinking; then back again to the be- 
ginning. Finally he cried out that he 
could "do them," and turning his back he 
went down on his hands and knees and 
wrote *'cat," **hen" and "dog" on that 
smoothed spot in the back yard of the 
Hodgen home where he and Austin played 
marbles. 

On his way home that afternoon Abe 
printed "cat," "hen" and "dog" on ev- 



THIRST FOR LEARNING 87 

ery inviting spot that he passed ; the fair 
face of nature was splotched and blotted, 
and Abraham was late to supper. The 
truthful explanation he gave his father 
was entirely unsatisfactory, and a whip- 
ping followed. Thomas Lincoln was dis- 
pleased and again threatened to forbid 
any more of that foolishness which Mrs. 
Hodgen was putting into the boy's head. 
But Mrs. Lincoln interceded; and when 
she believed it necessary to be positive 
with her husband she could be, so Mr. Gol- 
laher asserted, finally and completely 
positive. Thomas Lincoln seriously be- 
lieved that Abraham's thirst for book 
learning would be his ultimate ruin and 
naturally did not feel very kindly toward 
Mrs. Hodgen. 

Abraham told Austin about the inci- 
dent, and added that he was very sorry his 
father didn't seem to want a boy to learn 
anything out of books, and that "if father 
had learned a little about reading and 
writing when he was a child he might not 



88 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

have wanted to kill as many foxes and 
coons and other things in the woods." 

Mr. Lincoln had practically no educa- 
tion. When he made an occasional sale of 
pelts to a huckster he had to get his wife 
to ^'figure up the amount due him" and 
then count the money. But he was unal- 
terably opposed to education, saying that 
people who could read were lazy, and neg- 
lectful of their duties in the fields and 
woods. 

But Abraham did not let his father's 
reprimand or his opposition to book 
learning keep him from Missus Sarah's 
open-air school or the room up-stairs that 
she had set apart exclusively for her pu- 
pil's use. 

In his spelling lessons the word which 
gave to him the most trouble was ''tur- 
key." He would sometimes spell it 
**tirkee," sometimes *'terkee," or, getting 
closer to it, "turkie." Finally Missus 
Sarah succeeded in getting him straight- 
ened out on the letter ''u" by telling him 



THIRST FOR LEARNING 89 

to remember: ''When I teU YOU to go 
to the spring for water YOU must go. 
Now," she said, ''U-U-U, YOU must re- 
member." He then learned to spell 
*'key" and so finished his education as 
far as "turkey" was concerned. When 
he told Austin that he knew how to spell 
' ' turkey ' ' the latter replied : ' ' Well, I 'd 
lots rather know how to shoot one; the 
spelling won't do you any good, but if 
you'd learn to shoot straight you'd kill 
one every now and then. What good '11 it 
do you to spell 'em if you can't get 'em to 
eat?" he asked very seriously. 

Until the end of his long life Mr. Golla- 
her repeated Lincoln's answer to that 
question at every opportunity, sometimes 
laughingly and sometimes soberly, but al- 
ways with earnestness. 

''It's this way, Austin," replied Abe, 
"eating is good and we have to eat to live, 
but if you are going to keep it on your 
mind you'd just as well have been born a 
pig, then you could have rooted around 



90 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

all day long for something to chew up and 
swallow. We ought to put something in 
our heads as well as in our bellies. Every- 
thing depends on our heads — on the 
things we get out of books. The more we 
put into our heads, the easier we will get 
things to put into our bellies. Of course, 
we've got to kill things to eat, but if I had 
to kill anything I could kill it with a rock ; 
I don't want to learn how to shoot ; father 
can do the shooting for me. He doesn't 
mind killing things and I do. Yes, sir-ee ; 
I'd rather know how to spell turkey than 
be able to shoot its head off with a gun." 

"Although Abe pleaded with me, I 
could not be persuaded to take an interest 
in Mrs. Hodgen's free school," said Mr. 
Gollaher, "and it always pleased me when 
I heard Mr. Lincoln making fun of edu- 
cation. I preferred to become a good 
hunter and trapper — a woodsman with a 
mighty swinging ax — and I devoted my 
time to training myself along those lines. " 

When he became a very old man he said 



THIRST FOR LEARNING 91 

it had been one of the deepest regrets of 
his life that he had not gone with Abe to 
Missus Sarah's school, but he added, with 
a smile, "I was a better wood-chopper, a 
better hunter and a better trapper than 
Abe, even if he was a better president." 
Arithmetic was too prosy for Abraham. 
He thought it a waste of time to try to get 
sense out of figures, and Mrs. Hodgen 
had no end of trouble in persuading him 
that it was worth while to know that two 
times two are four. He contended that he 
wanted to learn how to read so that he 
could find out about Columbus and Wash- 
ington, and what had gone on in the 
world ; he could not see that figures would 
help him to do that. He told Austin that 
he did not expect to have much to do with 
things that would require *^ adding to and 
taking from." But Mrs. Hodgen told 
him that some day he would own a cow 
that he might want to sell. **Then," she 
said, ''you couldn't even count the money, 
and the man to whom you sold the cow 



92 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

might cheat you." This seemed to im- 
press him and he applied himself a little 
more interestedly in an effort to unravel 
some of the simple mysteries of figures. 

"Abe very quickly learned how to pro- 
nounce a great many small words," said 
Mr. Gollaher, "but figures seemed to 
worry him a lot. After he was able to say 
arithmetic correctly, he took more inter- 
est in addition and subtraction. He cer- 
tainly made a mighty slow start in 'sums* 
and a mighty fast start in everything else 
in the way of learning. I reckon his for- 
wardness in reading and writing made 
him seem more backward in arithmetic 
than he really was. Before he left Ken- 
tucky," continued Mr. Gollaher, "he 
claimed he could count up to one hundred 
and he said he didn't believe he'd try to 
learn anything more about figures. Mis- 
sus Sarah insisted that he count to two 
hundred by saying 'one hundred one, one 
hundred two, one hundred three' and so 
on, but he told her that he could count one 



THIRST FOR LEARNING 93 

hundred dollars, and that he didn't expect 
ever to have that much money. 

'' 'But, Austin,' he said very earnestly, 
'I will learn to read and then I am going 
to get that book the preacher and Mr. 
John told us about — Robinson Crusoe. 
Then, too,' he said with that lovely ex- 
pression around his eyes, 'I hope some 
day to read all the stories about Christo- 
pher Columbus and George Washington, 
and about England, where Missus Sarah's 
husband was born. Did you know, Aus- 
tin,' Abe asked, Hhat there are a lot of 
books about Virginia, and my father and 
all of his people came from there, and so 
did my mother, and Missus Sarah and all 
of her folks. So, I want to hurry up and 
learn to read and get some books about 
Virginia. That's the reason I can't take 
much time to study figures ; I must learn 
to read.' 

''Abe attended a school over there 
where the town of Athertonville is now 
located," said Mr. GoUaher. "It was con- 



94 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

ducted by a Monk whose name, I believe, 
was Zack Riley.* Abe always said he 
went for one term (a term in those days 
was two months) , but to my certain knowl- 
edge he was not there more than ten days. 
First one thing and then another, his fa- 
ther being one of them, would keep him 
away. Lots of times Knob Creek was so 
high he couldn't get across it, and fre- 
quently his mother's illness would keep 
him at home. Abe could not be persuaded 
to leave his mother if her illness confined 
her to bed. I have known him to sit in the 
house day after day when his mother was 
sick because he was afraid she might want 
a drink of water or something, and Abe 
thought nobody else could wait on her in 
the right way. He loved his mother more 
than anything else in the world, and she 
loved Abe, too; she loved him so much 
that my mother used to say: 'Well, 
Nancy thinks she's going to that child 
when she dies. ' 



•According to Joseph H. Barrett's history of Lin- 
coln it was Zacharlah Riuey. 



THIRST FOR LEARNING 95 

"Abe attended another school, over 
there in the woods, that was taught by a 
journeyman teacher,* but the results 
were about the same. He always said he 
didn't get up much interest because he 
couldn't be there every day, and when he 
missed it made the teacher mad. His 
most interested and most successful 
teacher in this section was Mrs. Sarah 
Hodgen, and when she and Abe finally 
got the men of the neighborhood to build 
a schoolhouse over near Hodgen 's Mill he 
was the happiest boy in the world." 



*The latter school referred to, according to the 
same authority, was taught by a man named Caleb 
Hazel. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE PARSON AND THE COONSKIN CAP 

Under a big maple tree, which stood on 
a smooth, grassy plat of ground, at the 
foot of a knob, a platform and pulpit had 
been built of poplar logs, split in two with 
a whip-saw. The big maple dipped to- 
ward the knob until its branches laced 
with the limbs of the trees growing on 
the hillside. In front of it was a grove of 
many smaller trees, whose lower limbs 
had been trimmed by the pioneers so there 
would be no need for a sinner to duck 
when he started to the altar. 

Directly facing the pulpit was a long 
bench — the mourners' bench — built upon 
stump-like legs, while scattered promiscu- 
ously through the grove were logs and 
smoothed-off stumps, — pews of the mem- 

96 



THE COONSKIN CAP 97 

bers of the Knob Creek congregation. 
This ideal spot for a camp-meeting was 
known for miles around as the *' Church 
of Maple Trees.'' 

There was always much excitement 
among the pioneers during these relig- 
ious revivals, which lasted a week; one 
meeting in the late spring and one in the 
early fall. Other interests were subordi- 
nated by the promoters of the camp-meet- 
ing, and all became, for the time being, la- 
borers in the Vineyard of the Lord. 

For at least a week beforehand, the par- 
son (a journeyman preacher) would visit 
among the pioneers to work up interest 
and to let the remoter people know the 
date of the meeting. The preacher was 
paid but little those days, but he was be- 
loved and respected; welcomed in every 
home, given the best there was to eat, and 
furnished a horse to ride. Indeed, he was 
a hero, and the people followed him, be- 
lieving implicitly in him and in his 
teachings. 



98 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

When the camp-meeting was in prog- 
ress, the settlers came prepared to stay 
the entire week, and any who could not 
find shelter in the homes of the neighbors 
remained in the woods and slept beneath 
the wide-spreading trees or the over- 
hanging cliffs. 

Mrs. Lincoln was a devoutly religious 
woman and never tired trying to promote 
the religious welfare of the community. 
Closely associated with her in this work 
were Mrs. Hodgen, Mrs. Gollaher and 
Mrs. "Walters. Thomas Lincoln was not so 
enthusiastic as his wife, but he attended 
the meetings and often became deeply in- 
terested, even excited, over the matter of 
his soul's salvation. At such times he 
would join in the singing and shouting, 
and otherwise display a deeply emotional 
spirit ; but he would soon forget, and was 
most of the time looked on as a 
*' backslider." 

Not that he was irreligious or immoral. 
He Avas simply indifferent. Restlessness 



THE COONSKIN CAP 99 

was his pet weakness. He had the wan- 
dering foot, and looking for other locations 
for a home was his hobby. He found 
many, too, in different parts of Kentucky 
and Tennessee and Indiana, and was for- 
ever threatening to move. Home-hunting 
was little short of a mania with him. so 
much so that at times he entirely forgot 
his duty to his family in his desire to ex- 
plore new regions. Because of his roving 
propensities he was not counted as one of 
the community's substantial citizens, and 
the sincerity of his camp-meeting conver- 
sions was doubted by his neighbors. 

But his wife, the mother of Abraham, 
kept the light burning in the little cabin 
home. The worn old Bible, the only book 
in the Lincoln library, was her refuge and 
her strength. She taught Abraham and 
his sister to pray and they all made brave 
efforts to sing. Abraham, during his mo- 
ments of sadness, for even as a lad he was 
touched with melancholy, would hum the 
pioneers' favorite hymn, The Old Ark's 



100 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

A-moving, and every night before he 
closed his eyes he breathed a simple 
prayer. 

A camp-meeting was now at its height 
in the Church of Maple Trees. It was 
early fall and the leaves were yet clinging 
to their boughs though some of them in 
the topmost branches were turning yel- 
low, giving to the forest church a vaulted 
arch of green and gold. 

Thomas Lincoln became deeply inter- 
ested in this particular meeting and on 
the second day he sought the mourners' 
bench and on the third day prayed aloud 
when called on by the Reverend Mr. Gen- 
try. Mrs. Lincoln was jubilant over the 
effect Brother Gentry's sermons were 
having on her husband, and expressed the 
belief to Mrs. Gollaher that he had at last 
found permanent favor with the Lord. 

Abe and Austin, as the *' official her- 
alds,*' were sent out each morning with 
invitations to the families that had not at- 
tended the meetings, to come and enjoy 



THE COONSKIN CAP 101 

the Godly messages of the evangelist. 
The boys rode ''double" on an old mule 
and traveled in haste since they were re- 
quired to be on the grounds in time for 
dinner and the afternoon services. 

''The arrangement to send us out in the 
morning," said Mr. Gollaher, "was made, 
of course, because our parents knew we 
would get back for dinner, and so, very 
naturally, get back in time for the after- 
noon preaching. Abe was always a big 
eater, but I was even a bigger one, and af- 
ter we had jolted around over these hills 
for four or five hours, we were good and 
ready to have our physical needs attended 
to." 

"Austin," said Abe, as he tenderly pat- 
ted his dog, "father has been on the 
'mourners' bench' and has prayed out 
loud once or twice, but I don't know so 
much about his religion." 

"Why, Abe, what's he done to make 
you say that?" asked Austin. 

"Kicked Honey last night, and I don't 



102 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

believe anybody with even a little religion 
will kick a dog when it rubs its nose 
against him in a friendly way. That was 
all Honey did; just put his nose up 
against father's knee, and father kicked 
him on his twisted leg. I haven't been on 
the mourners' bench," continued Abe, 
*'but I wouldn't kick anybody's dog. 
What do you think about it, Austin?" 

^'Well, I don't know; maybe your fa- 
ther thinks it's no harm to kick a dog; 
maybe he thinks God doesn't like dogs." 

*'No, surely he wouldn't think that," 
said Abe earnestly. "He would be a 
mighty funny God if He didn't like a 
good dog." 

On the fifth day of the meeting a goodly 
number were gathered for the morning 
service and the hour for the sermon had 
arrived, but the preacher had not. Noon 
came and still no parson. There was 
much excitement, much speculation as to 
his whereabouts, and Thomas Gollaher 
and Thomas Lincoln hurriedly set out in 



THE COONSKIN CAP 103 

search of him, he being a guest in the 
home of the former. 

But the good man had left the house 
alone, as was his custom, to stroll through 
the wilderness and commune with nature 
for a brief season before expounding the 
gospel. On this particular morning he 
had set out earlier than usual, and was 
seen to follow the path down to Knob 
Creek, to cross the foot-log and disappear 
in the woods. Earnest and systematic 
search revealed no slightest trace of him. 
His disappearance was as complete as 
though he had been gathered up in trail- 
ing clouds of glory. For a long time 
Brother Gentry and his unceremonious 
depai-ture was the subject of much discus- 
sion ; a few believed him an impostor, but 
the faith of the many was unshaken. 

Theories without end were advanced, 
but the one generally accepted was that 
he had received a **cair' to other fields 
and had left neglecting to inform the con- 
gregation of his intention. He had been 



104 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

heard to say that these calls from the 
Ijord often came to him unexpectedly and 
that he obeyed without the loss of so much 
as a moment's time. 

But to one of the youthful pioneers the 
hasty departure of the preacher brought 
sadness, if not black distrust. Abraham's 
coonskin cap, the one that Mrs. Hodgen 
had made for him — his best Sunday-go- 
to-meeting coonskin cap — ^had disap- 
peared contemporaneously with the 
parson. 

On the day before, it seems, while the 
reverend gentleman was crossing Knob 
Creek, a sudden gust of wind blew his hat 
from his bald head. The hat was caught 
in the swift current of the stream and car- 
ried far beyond any human reach. Now, 
the Lincoln cabin was close at hand, so the 
parson went there to beg protection for 
his head, and Abraham's mother gladly 
accommodated him with Abraham's coon- 
skin cap. 

*'If that wasn't stealing, what was it?" 



THE COONSKIN CAP 105 

Abe inquired of Austin. ' ' And I don 't be- 
lieve he got any call from the Lord, for if 
he had the Lord would have told him to 
take time to bring my cap back to me, or 
to hang it on a pole where we could see it 
when we passed. God doesn't want any- 
body preaching for Him who takes caps 
or anything else that doesn't belong to 
'em.'' 

"But, Abe," said Austin, ''the preacher 
is baldheaded, and it was chilly that morn- 
ing and he might have taken cold if he had 
nothing on his head." 

** That's so," said Abe, "but it doesn't 
make it right for the preacher to steal ; he 
might have pulled one of his socks down 
over his head. Besides, I saw him slip 
some walnuts in his pocket the other day ; 
and when he caught sight of me he looked 
mighty sheepish. Of course, we didn't 
care how many nuts he took, but he ought 
to have asked for them. Don't you ever 
take anything, Austin, that doesn't be- 
long to you, for it won't do you any good. 



106 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

That preacher's sure to have trouble over 
that cap. It might even turn into a coon 
and scratch all the skin off his bald 
head.'' And Abe's wide mouth expanded 
into a grin, and Austin roared with 
laughter. 



I 



CHAPTER XIII 

ABRAHAM AND THE CHURCH 

Abraham was spending the night with 
the Hodgens. He had said his prayers 
and had been tucked away in his trundle 
bed, a bed kept especially for him. Mrs. 
Hodgen thought him asleep until, greatly 
to her surprise, she heard him get up and 
tiptoe to the open door, where he stood 
looking out at the big gloomy trees, over 
which a mellow summer moon was shin- 
ing. *'Down there in the grove would be 
a good place to build the church," he 
whispered to himself, ''and I am going to 
help the men cut down the trees and fix 
the logs." 

''What's the matter, Abraham?" asked 
Mrs. Hodgen, "can't you sleep?" 

107 



108 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

*'Yes, Missus Sarah," he answered, 
**but before I go to sleep I want to prom- 
ise you that I'll cut down some trees and i 
shape some logs for the church you want 
to build. I reckon I could cut down one a 
day, trim it and get it ready. If the men 
will cut down two trees a day, it wouldn't 
be long till you'd have enough logs to 
build the church." 

''That is true, my boy," answered Mrs. 
Hodgen, ''but the men say they are too 
busy to build the church. They have been 
putting me off for a long time, but in the 
morning we '11 make Mr. John promise to 
ask the men again if they won't get the 
logs ready. ' ' And she tucked the boy once 
more in his trundle bed, kissing him good 
night and thanking him for his promise 
of help. 

That little whispered speech of Abe's 
as he sat in the open door, bathed in the 
summer moonlight, was really the inspi- 
ration for the building of Hodgen ville's 
first church, for the next morning Mr. 



THE CHURCH 109 

John promised liis mother, in Abraham's 
presence, that he would see that her dream 
of a "house of worship" came true. 
Young Lincoln was very happy, not be- 
cause a church then meant anything to 
him, but because Mrs. Hodgen was 
pleased. Abraham now knew the church 
was a certainty, because Mr. John had 
promised, and Mr. John never forgot his 
promises, or failed to keep his word. 

Mrs. Hodgen never faltered in her ef- 
forts to interest the pioneers in the enter- 
prise so dear to her heart ; indeed, as the 
days passed, she became more enthusias- 
tic, more determined, and though she gave 
a building site near the mill, yet she had 
much trouble in getting the project 
started. The pioneers were busy men and 
then, too, most of them believed that the 
wide-spreading canopy of heaven was all 
the house of worship that was necessary — 
that the camp-meeting ground was 
sufficient. 

Acting on Abraham's suggestion, Mis- 



110 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

sus Sarah went to the mill day after day 
and talked *' church-building'' to every 
man who came there, always saying that 
the child, Abraham Lincoln, was going to 
cut down one small tree each day and 
shape the log ready for the builders. 
**And surely," she would add, **if that 
boy can do so much for us — if he is will- 
ing to work early and late — ^you will cer- 
tainly help." In this manner, Mrs. Hod- 
gen got many promises and the church 
was in time a reality. 

"Missus Sarah," said Abraham, ''when 
the church is finished I hope that 
preacher who left our house with my 
coonskin cap on his head, and never came 
back with it, won't come here to preach. 
I kindo' believe it was stealing for him to 
go away with my cap, and I wouldn't like 
to hear him preach, because I'd feel like 
he wasn't the right kind of a man to tell 
people what God wanted them to do." 

''Now, Abraham," admonished Mrs. 
Hodgen, "you must be forgiving; you 



THE CHURCH 111 

must try to feel that the preacher just for- 
got to return your cap before he left the 
neighborhood, and that he did not intend 
to keep it. Then, too, my boy," she con- 
tinued, in her gentle manner, "don't you 
know the preacher was bald, and the day 
cool, and he might have frozen his head 
had he gone away bareheaded. ' ' 

"That's so," answered Abraham, in a 
solemn meditative way, "and I reckon his 
bald head would have got a little cold ; but 
do you know. Missus Sarah, he had better 
mend his ways or his bald head will get 
mighty hot some of these days. I saw 
him doing some other things that weren't 
right, and I don't believe the Lord wants 
a man like that to be telling the people 
what's right and what's wrong. Some 
time he might preach a sermon and say it 
was all right to take caps and walnuts and 
hickory nuts without asking for them." 

When John Hodgen made a snare for 
Abe, the boy looked at it soberly and then 



112 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

threw a stick against the trigger. The 
sapling, to which one end of the cord was 
tied, flew up with great force, looping the 
string tightly around one end of the stick. 

"Now," said Mr. Hodgen, "that is the 
way you'll catch them. "When Mr. Rab- 
bit, or Mr. Coon, or Mr. Opossum nibbles 
the bait he'll be caught, and won't get 
loose till you go to the snare the next 
morning and take the cord from around 
his neck." 

"Yes, I see," said Abraham, "but that 
thing will choke them to death, and they 
might be a long time dying, and I don't 
want to catch them that way. I 'd rather 
catch them in traps, so I could turn them 
loose if they looked very pitiful. I have 
turned lots of them loose," he added, then 
smilingly: "and I believe they thanked 
me when they got back to their homes in 
the woods, and told their families that an 
ugly boy turned them loose," and there 
was a twinkle in Abraham's sober eyes. 

"Now, Mr. John," continued the boy, 



THE CHURCH 113 

**I couldn^t sleep at niglit if I set a snare 
like that. It's not fair to fool rabbits and 
'possums and things by offering them 
something to eat that 's going to kill them 
almost as quick as they touch it. That 
would be a whole lot like somebody wrap- 
ping up your sore toe in a rag with rattle 
snake poison on the rag. All night I 'd be 
thinking of something choking to death 
out in the woods. When Missus Sarah 
gets her church built and the preachers 
come and preach, maybe they'll get some 
of the men to quit killing things they 
don't need. Please, Mr. John," begged 
the boy, ''don't show Austin how to make 
snares; if he knew, he'd have them 
strangling game every night." 

Mr. Hodgen, after trying vainly to 
amuse Abraham with the snare, the bow 
and arrow, the cross-bow and the rifle, de- 
clared he did not believe the boy would 
kill anything if he were starving. But the 
miller found Abraham very much alive to 
the things that interested older people. 



114 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

*^ Abraham's mind is more than usual," 
Mr. Hodgen would say, ^'it is so full of as- 
tonishing things that at times it's un- 
canny. Why, I would rather listen to him 
talk than to half the men in the settle- 
ment. He always finds something new 
along the road and tells me about it every 
time he comes to the mill. ' ' 

''When Mrs. Hodgen asked young Pot- 
tinger, of the neighborhood, to help cut 
the logs for the church, telling him of 
Abe's proposal," said Mr. Gollaher, "his 
mother, Mrs. Mary Pottinger, overheard 
the request and objected. She told Mrs. 
Hodgen that she was afraid of the Lin- 
coln boy ; saying that she believed he was 
sent to the world by the devil to do some 
evil thing; that his mind was even 
brighter than her husband's, and that her 
husband was 'counted a smart man.' 
When Mrs. Hodgen called her attention 
to Abraham's 'wonderful goodness,' Mrs. 
Pottinger threw up her hands and ex- 
claimed: 'That's one of the tricks of the 



THE CHURCH 115 

devil!' When pressed to tell what she 
thought might happen, she said that some 
day the devil would send a band of In- 
dians against the settlement, and use 
Abraham Lincoln as his instrument to ac- 
complish its destruction. 

''But Mrs. Hodgen predicted a great 
future for young Abe. She believed he 
would become a preacher and deliver his 
first sermon in the log church he was then 
trying to build, and that he would ulti- 
mately become a great and famous di- 
vine," continued Mr. Gollaher. ''But 
Mr. John disagreed with his mother, con- 
tending that Abe would ' certainly become 
a great judge. ' He said Abe 's inclination 
to measure well before delivering, and to 
consider well before going ahead, fitted 
him for the woolsack." 

"Teach Abraham all you can," was 
John Hodgen 's appeal to his mother; 
"teach him to read and to write, never 
mind the arithmetic; figuring will nat- 
urally follow." 



116 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

*'0n one of his trips to Elizabethtown, 
Mr. John bought a volume of ^sop's 
Fables, and when Abe and I made our 
next visit to the mill he brought forth the 
book and at the same time a small tray 
filled with the prettiest bullets I had ever 
seen," declared Lincoln's playmate. 
*' 'Now,' said Mr. John, 'I have a present 
for you boys. Here 's this book for one of 
you and these bullets for the other, but I 
can't decide which to give you, Abraham, 
or which to give Austin.' 'I don't want 
the bullets,' Abe said very quickly, and 
just as promptly I growled: 'I don't 
want the book.' 'Then,' said Mr. John, 
*the question is easily settled.' And he 
gave Abe ^sop's Fahles, and I took the 
bullets. Well, sir, Abe fairly hugged 
that book, and thanking Mr. John, he 
said: 'Wouldn't swap it for a cow and 
calf.' I was equally pleased with the 
bright new bullets. And thus it was all 
through life," sighed the old man, "Abe 
kept on gathering books and reading 
them, and I kept on gathering bullets and 



THE CHURCH 117 

shooting them." Then, as though trying 
to justify his life in the woods with his 
gun, he said: *'But I've seen the day 
when I could shoot a squirrel's eyes out 
every time I touched the trigger even if 
he was on the highest branch of the tallest 
tree in these hills. 

*'Abe was afraid to take the book home, 
lest his father, who still had no patience 
with book learning, would find it and de- 
stroy it. So Missus Sarah was made the 
custodian of these wonderful stories, and 
she read them and reread them to Abe un- 
til he could repeat many of them word for 
word," said Mr. Gollaher, as he turned 
the pages of the old Bible he held in his 
lap. 

**Abe sharpened his ax and went to 
work like an experienced woodsman, fell- 
ing trees for the church. And when we 
reported to Missus Sarah that we had 
four logs ready, she gave us a big 'spread' 
of blackberry jam on corn-bread," 
laughed old Austin as he recalled young 
Austin and his immortal playmate. 



CHAPTER XIV 

A FKIENDLY CONTEST 

Knowing that ^sop now awaited him 
at Missus Sarah's, Abe had many reasons 
to give his mother for extra trips to the 
mill. 

*'He always wanted me to go along," 
said Mr. Gollaher, ''and whenever mother 
would let me I accompanied him, but I 
didn't hear many of the fables read, be- 
cause the woods and Nolynn River were 
too attractive. On our way to Hodgen 
Mill one day Abe was suddenly attacked 
with the old-fashioned 'bellyache.' 'It's 
mother's green apple pie,' he said, 'and it 
feels like a knife was ripping through 
me. ' So when we came to the Stone House 
we stopped and asked for a cup of hot 

118 



A FRIENDLY CONTEST 119 

water with some red pepper in it. The 
tea gave Abe relief in a little while and 
we were about to leave when he spied a 
newspaper lying on a chair. He picked it 
up, examined it carefully, and seemed so 
much interested that the old woman who 
fixed the tea for him asked him if he 
would like to take the paper along and 
read it. Abe very quickly answered 'Yes- 
sum, ' you may be sure. It was a copy of 
the paper printed at Bardstown and was 
several weeks old, but Abe prized it 
highly and guarded it very closely." 

Since it was necessary to pass the mill 
on the way from the Lincoln to the Hod- 
gen home, Abe, Austin and Honey always 
stopped to say ''Hi" to Mr. John. 

"Upon this occasion," said Mr. GoUa- 
her, "a youngster called Freckles who 
was loafing around the mill awaiting the 
grinding of his corn, threw a stone and 
hit Abe's crippled dog. Honey yelped 
and Abe cried out : 

" 'Who hit my dog r 



120 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

*' * Freckles,' I said. 

'' *Why did you do that, Freckles?' 
asked Abe, quicker and hotter than I had 
ever heard him speak before. 

^' 'Because the dog's ugly and I wanted 
to hear him holler,' replied Freckles. 

" *Well,' said Abe, 'I am ugly too. 
Next time you want to hit somebody ugly, 
hit me ; I'll know wliy you hit me ; Honey 
doesn't.' Then Abe walked away and sat 
down upon a sack of corn, and patted 
Honey. When Freckles approached him, 
Abe asked: 'How would you like for 
your father to slap you, when you didn't 
know what he was slapping you for? 
And besides,' he continued, 'if everything 
that's ugly ought to be hit, somebody 
would be hitting you most of the time, and 
maybe lightning might strike you and kill 
you. You are uglier than Honey and 
meaner than the meanest dog I know. ' 

"That kind of talk from Abe surprised 
me, but I was mighty glad to hear it, be- 
cause I used to think some of the bovs 



A FRIENDLY CONTEST 121 

tried to run over him. I wanted to see 
him fight, but he held his temper and 
didn't seem to mind the taunts from the 
lads down around the mill. But if any- 
body mistreated Honey, Abe would show 
fight quick enough, and then the boys, I 
noticed, would leave him and his dog 
alone. He had a funny way of talking to 
the lads whenever he meant business," 
chuckled Mr. Gollaher. *'It was kind of 
mild and yet it was forceful. And when 
he cut loose they didn't bother him again 
for quite a while." 

John Hodgen called Freckles into the 
mill and said to him : *'If you throw any 
more stones at Abraham Lincoln's dog, 
there's going to be trouble around here, 
and I am going to stand by and watch 
Abraham give you a good whiiDping." 

''Abe can't do it," Freckles muttered. 

**Well, let's see," said Mr. Hodgen. 
"Now this isn't to be a fight; but a 
friendly little contest to see which is the 
better man. 



122 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

"Come here, Abe; come here, Freck- 
les," called Mr. John. *'Now, Freckles, 
you say Abraham can't whip you. What 
do you say, Abraham?'' 

"I don't want to fight," answered Lin- 
coln without the slightest change of ex- 
pression in his sad face. 

"But, boys," said Mr. Hodgen, "I told 
you this was not to be a fight, but just a 
little friendly contest to see which one 
would whip if a sure-enough fight should 
ever take place. Now," he went on, "I 
want to see which one can lift the other 
the easiest, by taking hold at the nape of 
the neck and the seat of the trousers." 

"Ready!" announced both boys. 

"Turn around. Freckles; take hold, 
Abe; now lift I" the miller commanded. 

With ease Abraham held Freckles 
aloft. 

"Now," said Mr. Hodgen, "see if you 
can shake him." 

And Abraham shook Freckles till his 
teeth chattered. 



A FRIENDLY CONTEST 123 

When Freckles tried to lift Abraham 
in the same way, he failed utterly. 

"Now, then, Freckles, you surely don't 
think you can whip Abe, do you?" asked 
Mr. Hodgen. 

"No, sir, I can't whip him and I won't 
throw any more rocks at his dog," was 
Freckles' honest acknowledgment and 
voluntary promise. 

"During the excitement," said Mr. Gol- 
laher, "I thought Abe had forgotten 
about those fables, but I was mistaken. 
Just as soon as he let go of Freckles he 
said : ^Mr. John, I'm going down to your 
house to get Missus Sarah to read to me 
out of the book.' As it was about dinner 
time, Mr. John went with us. 

" 'Where's your newspaper?' I asked, 
thinking maybe Abe had forgotten it and 
left it at the mill, but he had it folded up 
nicely, sticking between the ear-laps of his 
cap. 

"When we reached the Hodgen home 
we found dinner waiting for us, but Abe 



L 



124 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

had to show Missus Sarah that old paper 
before eating. After we had finished, 
she examined it more closely, and found 
in it a small notice of the sale of some ne- 
groes at Bardstown the month before. 
Then Missus Sarah said to Mr. John: 
'You might have gone to Bardstown and 
bought one of those negro men had you 
known of the sale. The work on the farm 
is too heavy for the four men and the boy 
we now have, and we must buy another 
negro. ' 

'' 'I have heard,' said Abe to Missus 
Sarah, 'that some people don't treat their 
negroes right. You loiow those travelers 
— the man and his wife — who came 
through here not long ago, told us that 
they knew an old man who owned 
lots of slaves, and that every time one of 
them went blind, he soon died ; and every- 
body believed the old man killed them to 
keep from having to feed them. And 
they said, too,' Abe went on, 'that he was 
awful mean to themj that he sometimes 



'A FRIENDLY CONTEST 125 

whipped them until they bled. I think 
people ought to be good to them, because^ 
I reckon, they are human beings just like 
we are. ' 

*^That was Abraham Lincoln's first 
speech in behalf of the negro, and it was 
made not against slavery, of course, but 
against cruelty, just as he protested 
against cruelty of all kinds," said Mr. 
Gollaher. ''We didn't know much about 
slavery here in our neighborhood during 
the period the Lincolns lived here. We 
were most all too poor to own slaves. 
Mrs. Hodgen and her sons owned a few, 
and so did the LaRues, but they were good 
to their negroes, and the subject of cruelty 
to slaves was not discussed in this section 
at that time. ' ' 



CHAPTER XV 

A GOOD TIME UP THERE 

They had finished the meal, and Abe, 
Mr. John and Austin were sitting under 
the shade of a tree in the yard, while Mis- 
sus Sarah was superintending the clear- 
ing of the table. In a little while she 
would be there to read to Abraham from 
his favorite ^sop. Mr. John had 
propped himself against a tree and had 
bitten off a cheek-full of tobacco. "Abe," 
he began, *'you and Austin will tell me the 
truth if I ask you a question, won't you?'' 

"Yes, Mr. John," both answered at 
once. 

"Have either of you ever taken a chew 
of tobacco?" 

"Once," answered Austin. 

126 



A GOOD TIME UP THERE 127 

^*Well, did it make you sick, Austin'?" 
asked Mr. Hodgen. 

"No, sir," was the emphatic answer. 

"If it didn't make you sick you will 
very likely be a user of tobacco the rest of 
your life," said Mr. Hodgen. 

"No, sir, it never does make me sick," 
Austin assured him. 

"But you just told me that you had 
taken but one chew," said Mr. Hodgen, 
"and now you tell me that it never does 
make you sick, which answer indicates 
that you have taken more than one chew." 

"Yes, sir, I was just going to tell you 
that I have taken more than one chew, be- 
cause I have been having the toothache, 
and mother told me I could put tobacco 
around my gums to ease the pain. It's 
mighty good for that," Austin explained. 

"Now, Abe, how about you?" Mr. Hod- 
gen asked. 

"No, sir, never, Mr. John," Abraham 
very earnestly answered. 

"Do you think you'd like to learn?" 



128 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

"I might.'* 

"Why do you think you might?'' 

** Because they say it will keep teeth 
from getting rotten and falling out." 

**I have heard that, too," said Mr. Hod- 
gen, "but I don't take much stock in such 
a claim. Did you boys know there isn't any 
kind of animal that will chew tobacco?" 

"Grandfather had a billy-goat a long 
time ago," Austin replied, "that chewed 
up tobacco stems and swallowed them, but 
it soon killed him, or something killed 
him, and grandfather said he thought it 
was the tobacco." 

"Well," Mr. Hodgen didn't smile, "if 
tobacco kills goats, it certainly would kill 
boys, so both of you had better leave it 
alone." 

"I don't like it," said Abraham. "I 
don't believe I'll ever try it." 

But Missus Sarah now interrupted. 
She had the ^sop book in her hands, and 
Abe straightway forgot tobacco and ev- 
erything else. 



A GOOD TIME UP THERE 129 

** While mother reads to Abraham you 
and I, Austin, will go feed the pigs, then 
we '11 all go back to the mill, for you boys 
must start home early." 

**I'll tell you what I am going to do," 
announced Abraham a little later, as they 
■were on their way to the mill, ^'I am going 
to buy you out one of these days. I am 
going away for about twenty-five years, 
and then I am coming back to buy the 
mill, and live here the rest of my life and 
grind corn for the people, just like you 
are grinding it, Mr. John. You would be 
old then, and you and Missus Sarah could 
live with us. ' ' 

"In twenty-five years, my boy, I may 
not be here, and Missus Sarah will surely 
be on the other side of the Great River. 
Twenty-five years is a long time and I 
may be way up yonder where the stars 
» shine. Do you think I am good enough 
to go to Heaven?" he asked, smiling. 

Young Abraham looked up at Mr, John 



130 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

and there were tears in his eyes, but he 
made no reply. He knew none was 
necessary. 

**We strolled on through the meadow in 
silence," said Mr. Gollaher. ''Abe was 
absorbed and obviously meditating. That 
reference to crossing the Great River had 
saddened him and given him food for 
thought. To my surprise, and to the sur- 
prise of Mr. Hodgen, he finally said: 'I 
wish that woman at the Stone House 
hadn't given me that old newspaper; then 
I wouldn't have thought about that old 
man killing his blind slaves. ' Then, turn- 
ing to Mr. John, Abe said: 'If I were in 
Heaven I'd want God to take you, and 
mother and father and sister Sarah, and 
Missus Sarah right away, too, so we could 
have a good time up there together. 
When God wants a sure-enough friend in 
Heaven He'll send an angel after you, Mr. 
John. ' 

"Well, sir," continued Mr. Gollaher, 
"I have never seen anybody, from that 



A GOOD TIME UP THERE 131 

day to this, appreciate anything more 
than Mr. Hodgen appreciated that re- 
mark from Abe. He stopped there in the 
meadow and put his big strong arms 
around the boy and hugged him. His 
voice was too husky to talk, I guess. 

** After a time, he smiled and asked: 
*What about Austin? Would you have 
him brought up to Heaven right away, or 
would you let him stay here for a while 
longer?' 

" *I might ask God to bring him up 
there, and I might not,' answered Abe. 
*If he wanted to come I guess I would ask 
God to let him in, but if he wanted to stay 
here I would leave him alone until I 
thought he was killing too many things of 
the woods, then I would beg God to take 
him — whether Austin wanted to come or 
not.' " 



CHAPTER XYI 

THE NICKNAME 

The old gum-spring at the foot of the 
hill — that hill upon which stood the log 
grist mill of John Hodgen — ^was a favorite 
spot with the thirsty traveler who passed 
that way. Growing around the spring 
and bending over it was a cluster of tall 
willows, which protected it from the sum- 
mer sun, and beneath the willows was 
a bench made of a split log, upon which 
the weary might rest while he quenched 
his thirst. Upon every tree, a gourd was 
hooked over the stob of a limb. The 
spring was walled around with smooth 
gray rocks and over it, upon four cedar 
posts, was a rough moss-covered roof. 

The spring was John Hodgen 's pride. 

132 



THE NICKNAME 133 

It was his standing invitation to all who 
came near to drink and rest. Many peo- 
ple in the neighborhood — more than a 
century ago — pronounced the water heal- 
ing, and came with jugs and carried it 
away to their homes. The spring is still 
there, but it has no care-taker and is now 
no more than any other spring along 
Nolynn River, except it is generally 
known that the child Lincoln played 
around it and drank of its water. 

The miller permitted no rowdyism 
around the spring, and dabbling in it was 
positively forbidden. John Hodgen had 
worked to make the place inviting, and he 
insisted that all visitors ^'behave them- 
selves" while enjoying his gum-spring's 
refreshing hospitality. Old man Kastor 
— one of the wits of the neighborhood — 
used to lift his hat and bow his head be- 
fore taking a drink, saying: **This water 
is worth praying for." 

The boys who played around the old 
spring over a century ago all had their 



134 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

nicknames, even as the boys of to-day. 
Jinunie Ashcraf t, for example, was called 
Freckles for obvious reasons, and Austin 
Gollaber was known as Buster, because he 
was big and fat and strong. 

Four or five boys of the woods — *'corn- 
f etchers and meal-toters'* Mr. Hodgen 
called them — were grouped around the 
spring one hot summer day. Among them 
was Abraham Lincoln. He was standing 
close to the little log trough through which 
the spring water trickled into its well- 
like rock walls. Old man Pottinger rode 
up, alighted from his mule, took a gourd 
from a stob and said: ^* Stand aside, 
'High,' I want a drink." He was speak- 
ing to Abraham Lincoln. The boys snig- 
gered and laughed — Abraham had been 
nicknamed and the youngsters were 
elated. Mr. Pottinger explained that the 
name was appropriate for two reasons: 
one, that Abe was extremely high for his 
age, and the other, that he met everybody 
with the salutation'^Hil" ''So, Abe," he 



THE NICKNAME 135 

said good-naturedly, *'we'll just call you 
High after this." 

The boys began at once to use the new 
name every time they spoke to young Lin- 
coln, and they made it convenient to speak 
frequently, since they could easily see he 
did not like the appellation. He made no 
protest, but he walked away and sat down 
upon a rock and covered his face with his 
hands. 

*'Abe," said Austin, as the two climbed 
the hill to the old mill, **I haven't teased 
you and I'm not going to, but you 
oughtn't get mad at the boys for calling 
you High; that'll just make them bother 
you that much more, until we'll have to 
fight them, and we don't want to do that." 

Abe made no reply to Austin's advice 
further than to say he wasn't mad, but 
when the two reached the mill he told Mr. 
Hodgen that he had been nicknamed 
High, and that he did not like it, adding 
with a shamefaced smile: "I know I'm 
high, and my legs and arms are outland- 



136 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

ish, and I 'm bigger than any boy my age, 
but I don't want to be called High." 

^^Wby, my dear boy,'' exclaimed the 
miller, ^'the meaning of high is lofty, big, 
great ! You ought to be pleased. You are 
tall and big, of course, but the name does 
not apply to your height; it applies to 
your character, to your goodness of heart, 
and to your superiority over other boys. 
Don't you like the big, tall, straight trees 
of the woods better than the small, knotty, 
little ones? You are a big, tall, straight 
tree, Abraham, and you tower above the 
boys who tease you; they are scrub oaks 
and sassafras saplings when compared 
with you. ' ' 

*'But, Mr. John, I don't want to be 
called High ; I am ashamed of myself be- 
cause I am so high," Abraham answered 
in his quiet emphatic way. 

"Surely, Abraham," said Mr. Hodgen, 
''you didn't leave the spring because you 
were afraid of those boys! Did you?" he 
asked quietly. 



THE NICKNAME IST- 

''No, sir, Mr. John, I am not afraid of 
all of them," Abraham said simply with- 
out animation. 

"Then, take the bucket, go down to the 
spring and get some fresh water for me," 
and with that Mr. Hodgen handed Abra- 
ham the water bucket. 

Slowly the boy walked down the hill to 
the spring. His tormentors were still 
there. Austin started to follow, but the 
miller called him back. Before Abe 
reached the foot of the hill there was a 
shout of "Here comes High," but Abra- 
ham moved on with his customary long 
indifferent swing. 

Mr. Hodgen smilingly watched from 
the mill window, and Austin stood by him 
greatly agitated. 

Now, Abraham was anything but a 
fighter; he would not even quarrel. He 
talked so very little that there was no op- 
portunity for dispute with his boy asso- 
ciates, and, while attempts had been made 
to involve him in boyish difficulties, he 



138 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

did no more than look into the faces of 
his tormentors and walk away. 

A youngster by the name of Carl Vitti- 
toe approached Abraham as he neared the 
spring, the bucket swinging from his arm. 
*'High/' said young Vittitoe, "I have 
dropped my knife into the spring ; the wa- 
ter 's too deep for me to get it, but your 
arms are so long you can reach it easy 
enough.'' 

Abraham put the bucket under the wa- 
ter spout, "caught" it full and started 
back toward the mill with that same indif- 
ferent, characteristic swing. The Vitti- 
toe boy grabbed him by the arm and 
ripped a big hole in his shirt-sleeve. Very 
quietly Abe set the bucket down, and just 
as quietly he wound his long arms around 
young Vittitoe, carried him to the spring 
and soused him, headforemost, into the 
water. When he brought the boy up, 
dripping and sputtering, he was holding 
his knife tightly in his wet hand. 

Then Abraham said to the boy : ** Carl, 



THE NICKNAME 139 

when father has a piece of timber that is 
too short, he splices it, so I had to splice 
my arm by using yours." And he picked 
up his bucket and went to the mill, never 
once looking back. 

^'See here, Abraham, '^ said Mr. Hod- 
gen, feigning anger, *' don't you know I 
don't want you to play in that spring? 
Didn't I see you dipping Carl in the 
water?" 

*'Yes, sir, but I wasn't playing," Abra- 
ham answered. 

*'0h! you were fighting, were you?" 

^*No, sir, I wasn't fighting; I was help- 
ing Carl get his knife out of the spring. ' ' 

After this episode the boys called him 
Abe. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE EXPLORERS 

AiTSTiN" GoLLAHER^s grandfather had 
gone with a raft of pelts to Louisville, and 
Austin was staying with his grandmother 
farther up among the Knob Creek hills. 
Abraham was lonely — pathetically lonely 
with Austin away. His only diversion 
was to wander over the hills and through 
the woods, with Honey following at his 
heels. It was now spring, and since Abra- 
ham could handle a hoe or a spade 
fairly well, much of his time was spent in 
the fields. 

Austin away, Abraham and Honey 
made the weekly trip to the mill alone. 
Saturday was always the busiest "grind- 
ing day" and there was a rush among the 

140 



THE EXPLORERS 141 

children of the pioneers ''to get there 
first, ' ' for they knew that the bag of corn 
to reach the mill first went to the hopper 
first; that rule of taking them as they 
came was always closely observed. 

*'Everyv\^here Abraham goes Honey 
goes, and I'm glad of it," said Mrs. Lin- 
coln to Mrs. Gollaher one morning as the 
boy and the dog set off for the mill. "He 
may fool away more time by having 
Honey with him, but I believe he is some 
protection; at least, I'm not so uneasy 
when I know the two are together." 

When Abraham dropped his sack of 
corn upon the mill floor, Mr. Hodgen 
said : "Late again ; look at the bags ahead 
of you; it will be sundown before your 
turn comes, and I'll have to take you home 
again. I can't let you go through the 
dark woods alone." 

"I am not afraid, Mr. John, and 
neither is Honey, ' ' answered the boy. 

"But, Abraham," said Mr. Hodgen, 
somewhat out of humor, "why do you fool 



142 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

your time away? You must get here 
earlier. You have seen these hills and 
hollows hundreds of times and I can't un- 
derstand what you find to keep you so 
long on the road." 

''Well, Mr. John," began Abraham, 
*' Honey got a 'possum in a hollow stump, 
and I couldn't get him to leave it, and I 
couldn't leave Honey. I wanted to get 
here early to-day, but I just couldn't 
make Honey hurry." 

Late in the afternoon Abraham's meal 
was sacked, and Mr. Hodgen blew three 
times on a cane-pole whistle. That was 
Abe's signal, and he knew it well and al- 
ways listened for it. But this time he did 
not reply. Again and again the whistle 
was blown, but there was no response. 
Inquiry among the boys developed the 
fact that Abe had not been seen for two 
or three hours ; that then he was sitting on 
the roots of a big tree, looking out upon 
the mill pond. 

Standing upon a high bank, alarmed 



THE EXPLORERS 143 

and apprehensive, Jolin Hodgen halloed 
and gazed down into the green waters of 
Nolynn River as though to arouse Abe, 
who could not swim, from the bottom of 
the stream. He called at the top of his 
voice: ^* Abraham I Abraham! Abraham!" 
Out in the middle of the river a lazy 
muskrat lounged, and John Hodgen, 
thinking in his excitement that it was the 
top of the boy's coonskin cap, plunged 
into the water, diving where the muskrat 
was lounging. 

From a messenger sent to his home, he 
learned that Abraham had been there but 
had left three hours before, presumably 
to go to the mill. For an hour he contin- 
ued the search and then he sent a man to 
the Lincoln cabin to notify Abraham's 
parents and the Gollahers. They were 
asked to report to the mill, where they 
would decide upon a plan of action. 

With anxious faces, pale in the light of 
their pine-knot torches, they soon gath- 
ered at the mill where many pioneers and 



144 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

their families, having heard that Thomas 
Lincoln's boy Abraham was lost, had pre- 
ceded them. Mr. Lincoln was greatly ex- 
cited. Thomas Gollaher and Abraham 
Enlow tried to encourage him though 
sadly apprehensive themselves. 

Mrs. Lincoln rubbed her poor white 
hands and prayed. "Mr. Hodgen," she 
asked, "have you seen the dog? Was 
Honey with Abraham when he came to 
the mill?" 

"Yes, the dog was with him." 

"Then," she said, "both have been 
drowned, or have been stolen by Indians 
who sometimes pass over their old trails 
on their way north. If Honey is alive, he 
will come home, or back to the mill." 

Preparations were made for an all- 
night hunt, but none knew where to begin 
the search. They could not drag the river 
at night; so it was finally decided to go 
first through the woods surrounding the 
Hodgen home. 

Mrs. Lincoln stood under the shed-like 



THE EXPLORERS 145 

porcli of the house, where they stopped a 
moment while Mr. John got into some dry- 
clothes, and was looking out into the som- 
ber depths of the grove which seemed to 
hover over her like a hideous monster, 
ready to strike her down with its big 
hands. Somewhere in the depths of the 
forest she saw, in her imagination, an In- 
dian war-dance, and her thoughts turned 
back to the time when she, a little girl, was 
stolen by the savages. Then, awakened 
suddenly from her terrifying reverie, she 
cried out with all her strength: ** Here's 
Honey! Here's Honey!" 

From somewhere out of the night the 
dog came. He whined at her feet and 
looked up appealingly into the eyes of 
first one and then another, until, finding 
Mr. John, he jumped upon the miller and 
barked again and again, squarely in his 
face. 

"Gather your torches!" John Hodgen 
commanded, "and we'll follow where the 
dog leads." 



146 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

With a yelp, the panting Honey circled 
the corner of the house and dashed 
through the garden, barking as he ran. 
Everybody, as everybody usually does in 
such circumstances, expected the worst; 
expected the dog to lead them to Abra- 
ham's mangled body, though many a si- 
lent prayer went up for the boy's safety. 

To the north and west of the Hodgen 
house Nolynn River circled, and it was 
straight to the river that Honey led the 
searching party. 

*'I know where the boy is!" shouted 
John Hodgen joyously. '*Why didn't I 
think of it before ? He's lost in that con- 
founded cave ; we'll soon find him and I'll 
bet he's not hurt a bit. But I can't imag- 
ine what the boy meant by going into that 
hole; I have never known him to do a 
thing like that before." 

When they reached the cave, John Hod- 
gen commanded every one to be quiet 
while he blew his whistle three times. 
There was a moment's anxious silence. 





o 

X 



Qi 



THE EXPLORERS 147 

Then from somewhere back in the cave 
came a faint voice : 

^'Here I am, but I'm fastened I" 

"I'll get you out," cried Mr. John. 
*^Your meal is ready and you ought to 
have been on your way home a long time 
ago." 

When he at last reached Abe it was to 
find him tightly wedged between two 
large rocks, and when the miller pulled 
Abe groaned, because as he afterward 
said ; *'Some of my hide was coming off." 

*'It's a mystery," declared Mr. Hod- 
gen, "how the boy ever got himself in such 
a fix. For a while I thought we were go- 
ing to need sledges to break the rock, but 
when I found it would be impossible to 
strike hard enough to do that in those 
close quarters, I just decided to pull Abra- 
ham out, even if I had to skin him." 

Young Lincoln was very much sur- 
prised to find the large searching party 
at the mouth of the cave. He had been 
busy trying to squeeze through and 



148 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

thought little about the length of time he 
had been in the cave. After he had been 
hugged by his mother and Missus Sarah 
it was his father's time to be a little "af- 
fectionate." But John Hodgen inter- 
ceded, saying: 

"Now, Tom, Abraham is my prisoner, 
and I want you to give me your word that 
you won't whip the boy when you get him 
home, that you won't even scold him. The 
experience he has passed through is les- 
son enough. He'll never go into that cave 
again." 

"I came home from my grandfather's 
late in the afternoon of the day Abe was 
lost," said Mr. Gollaher, "but I could not 
go with the searching party because they 
made me stay with my little sister. But 
I told mother they needn't have any fear, 
that Abe would turn up safe and sound." 

The next day when the boys were dis- 
cussing the adventure, Abe said: "Now, 
you see, Austin, Honey has paid me back 
for mending his broken leg." 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE FOX AND THE TRAP 

"Theee is no use to worry or be sad and 
cry," said Abraham one day as lie wiped 
the tears from his eyes first with one and 
then the other of his shirt-sleeves. "It's 
foolish, but I just can't help it, Austin — I 
just can't help it when I get to feeling like 
the little Brownfield children felt when 
their mother died." 

"What you crying about? What you 
talking about T' asked Austin 
impatiently. 

* ' Nothing much, ' ' Abe answered. " I 'm 
just down in the mouth, like mother says 
she used to get before we moved over here 
from the Cave Spring Farm." 

"Tell me what's the matter, Abe," said 
Austin kindly. 

149 



150 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

"Well, I reckon I'm crying because fa- 
ther keeps on talking about moving to 
* Indian Anner,' or somewhere a long 
ways from here, and I don't want to go 
and neither does mother. [And I'm afraid 
he won't let me take Honey. Then I never 
will be happy. I believe Honey knows 
father doesn't want him around, and that 
mother and I are worried about some- 
thing, because when we talk about moving 
he just looks up at us for a minute or two, 
then kind o ' whines and goes off and curls 
up in a corner. Of course, I know if we 
go and I have to leave Honey here you 
will treat him all right, but he would be 
awful lonesome, because he loves me more 
than anybody knows." 

**But, Abe," said Austin, "you have 
been sad about one thing and another ever 
since you were a baby. Mother says you 
looked worried the day after you were 
born. She says you are now as big as a 
fourteen-year-old boy, and that you 
oughtn't to cry so much. Why, she said 



THE FOX AND THE TRAP 151 

she caught you crying yesterday when she 
chopped a chicken's head off, so's we 
could have it for sister's birthday dinner. 
You ate plenty of the chicken just the 
same, " Austin added laughingly. 

*' People just can't know my feelings, 
and I reckon they never will. I wasn't 
crying about the chicken ; I was crying be- 
cause I felt bad about moving away from 
here. Of course, after the chicken was 
dead and cooked," continued Abe, "I ate 
some of it." 

Perhaps the hardest whipping Abia- 
ham ever received from his father was for 
liberating a red fox from a trap. Mr. 
Lincoln had not been well for several days 
and his wife insisted that he take Abra- 
ham with him when he went to visit his 
traps, scattered through the hills and 
along the banks of Knob Creek. Thomas 
Lincoln was an expert trapper, and upon 
this particular occasion was unusually 
successful. He had caught a coon and a 
fox, and had about finished skinning 



152 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

them, when Abraham, who had gone ahead 
to the next trap and discovered it held a 
fine red fox, deliberately lifted the trap 
door and invited the fox to enjoy his 
freedom. 

'' Wliy did you do that"?" demanded Mr. 
Lincoln as he stepped up to Abraham, 
who stood in pleasant contemplation of 
the open trap door. 

"Father," replied the boy in his most 
appealing tones, "wasn't two animals 
enough for one day? Just think how 
happy that old red fox is, to be out in the 
woods again." 

But Mr. Lincoln didn't see it that way, 
and gave Abraham a cuff on the side of 
the head, and when they got home a sound 
whipping, over the protest of Mrs. Lin- 
coln. After quiet was restored Mrs. Lin- 
coln reproved Abraham in that gentle, 
sweet way of hers, and warned him that 
he must never be guilty of such a thing 
again. 



THE FOX AND THE TRAP 153 

"But, mother, I just couldn't help it," 
he said. **I knew it wasn't right — I just 
couldn't help it, and I reckon I'd have 
done it even had I thought father would 
have skinned me like he did the fox and 
the coon he caught. I'm mighty sorry I 
displeased father, but I'm glad that fox 
is back in the woods with its family." 

Abraham had, a number of times be- 
fore, turned loose his father's '* catches," 
greatly to Austin's disgust, who threat- 
ened to tell on him if he didn't stop it. 
The two boys got into an argument over 
the right and wrong of the matter and 
the question was finally left to Mrs. Gol- 
laher for settlement. She very promptly 
agreed with Austin that Abe was in the 
wrong, and said: **Tell me, Abraham, 
why do you do such foolish things?" 

"Because," the boy replied, "we have 
no right to more than we need. There 
ain't no use in killing those animals 
and birds; and I don't like to see them 



154 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

suffer. That is my reason for letting 
them out.'' 

But after this, Abraham never mo- 
lested his father's traps, though he wasn't 
convinced that it was right or legitimate 
to catch more than was actuallv needed. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE GOAT AND THE COAT 

In the yard of the Hodgen home be- 
neath the great boughs of walnut and 
hickory trees, was a crudely constructed 
table, surrounded by benches made of 
split logs. It was ' ' designed "and erected 
by John Hodgen for one purpose only: 
to bear the feast that the miller annually 
spread for his friends, who were invited 
from far and near to come, eat and be 
neighborly. 

On the third Saturday in July, the Lin- 
colns, the Gollahers, the Enlows, the 
Brownfields, the Walters, the Kirkpat- 
ricks, the LaRues and many others were 
expected to gather for the banquet with- 
out formal invitation, and to make merry 

155 



156 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

with their friends and neighbors. The 
day became generally known as the "Hod- 
gen-Dinner-Day"; the people kept it in 
mind and the attendance grew larger each 
year. 

It was at one of these Hodgen dinners, 
where the community's needs were often 
discussed, that it was decided to build a 
schoolhouse and a church. Pledges were 
made not in writing, for a man's word 
given at John Hodgen 's table was never 
broken. The church and schoolhouse 
were built, and Mrs. Hodgen saw her 
dream fulfilled. Then finally a town was 
"laid off" and named Hodgenville, in 
honor of Robert Hodgen. 

*' Right there where the old brick 
clerk's office stands," said Mr. Gollaher, 
"in front of the court-house, at the foot 
of the hill, I saw Abe's dog, Honey, have 
a fight with a coon. I poked the coon out 
of a hollow tree and Honey grabbed him — 
grabbed him by the throat and killed 



THE GOAT AND THE COAT 157 

him.* When I came up to the mill, two 
hundred yards away, dragging the coon 
after me, Abe looked at Honey and Honey 
looked at Abe, then Abe said: 'You 
didn't have to do it. Honey; you didn't 
have to kill that coon.' " 

The dinner was on in earnest ; the table 
piled high with venison, turkey, a young 
pig and numerous "side dishes." Every- 
body was happy. Abe and Austin were 
eating from the top of a stump, and, like 
the grown-ups at the big table, were dis- 
cussing the needs of the community. Aus- 
tin wanted a gunsmith to move into the 
neighborhood, while Abe wanted a school- 
teacher, and there was a rather warm dis- 
cussion as to which would be the more 
valuable acquisition. 

A billy-goat was grazing in the yard. 
He was one of John Hodgen's pets. In 
fact, he was petted and made over by ev- 



•A Lincoln monument has been erected where those 
old buildings stood — upon the spot where Austin and 
Honey caught the coon in the hollow tree. 



158 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

erybody whose sense of smell was not too 
acute. Abraham was fond of the goat, so 
fond, indeed, that his mother made him, 
on one occasion, go for a full day in noth- 
ing but his long-tailed shirt until she 
could wash and dry his trousers. Abra- 
ham had only one pair of trousers and 
when his mother, once each month, 
"freshened" them in Knob Creek, he was 
forced to wear a long shirt, or apron, un- 
til the cleansing ceremony was over.* 

Old Mr. Kirkpatrick, one of the regular 
guests at the annual Hodgen dinner, was 
a very dignified and impressive individ- 
ual, even in the matter of dress. He was 
the owner of a coat, fashioned somewhat 
after the style of the more modern Prince 
Albert, which he had brought with him 
from Virginia when he moved into the 
community several years before and 
which he had guarded jealously for some- 
thing like a quarter of a century. Mr. 



•Long shirts, or aprons, were worn by boys In 
those days and It was not unusual during the summer 
to meet a boy upon the highway In his shirt-tail. 



THE GOAT AND THE COAT 159 

Kirkpatrick never donned the famous 
garment except upon a state occasion 
such as the Hodgen dinner, or when he 
was expected to take some prominent part 
in the camp-meeting services. 

The day was hot and all the pioneers ex- 
cept Mr. Kirkpatrick were in their shirt- 
sleeves. He was sweltering in the historic 
coat, buttoned tightly to the neck. After 
much persuasion, his wife succeeded in 
getting him to remove it, when she care- 
fully folded the ** garment of state'* and 
placed it in the low forks of a small tree. 

The school and church were under dis- 
cussion, as was also a project to improve 
the roads to Bardstown and Elizabeth- 
town, and Mr. Kirkpatrick had become so 
deeply interested in the welfare speeches 
that, although the dinner was over, he had 
forgotten he was in his shirt-sleeves and 
was not in the least embarrassed because 
of his undignified appearance. The meet- 
ing was drawing to a close; some of the 
far-distant visitors had already departed. 



160 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

**Wife," commanded Mr. Kirkpatrick, 
** bring my coat and we will be going." 

There was a smothered scream from 
Mrs. Kirkpatrick; she seemed about to 
swoon. The billy-goat had feasted on the 
tail of Mr. Kirkpatrick 's coat, had, in 
fact, chewed it off almost to the buttons 
at the waistband. To say that the old gen- 
tleman was disturbed but lightly ex- 
presses it. He was ruined, heart-broken, 
he actually sobbed and then and there 
made a solemn vow never again to try to 
"fix himself up to look like a gentleman" ; 
that thenceforth he would dress as the 
common herd dressed. And he kept his 
word. He became a sort of backwoods 
** raggedy man,«" uncouth and unkempt. 

Mr. Hodgen and his mother were cha- 
grined over the ungentlemanly behavior 
of the goat, and the miller energetically 
applied the lash. 

"What are you doing that for?" asked 
Abraham with some show of excitement. 
*' Why, Mr. John, don't you know the goat 



THE GOAT AND THE COAT 161 

thought he had as much right to eat Mr. 
Kirkpatrick's coat-tail as Mr. Kirkpat- 
rick had to eat the pig you had on the 
table r' 

*'You must get rid of that goat," inter- 
rupted Mrs. Hodgen. 

^'Take him, Abraham," said Mr. Hod- 
gen, "he will carry your corn to the mill 
and your meal back home." 

Thus through the misfortune of Mr. 
Kirkpatrick, Abraham Lincoln became 
the owner of a billy-goat — a piece of prop- 
erty he had long coveted. 

"It seems to me," said Thomas Lincoln, 
"that Abraham has too many pets. He 
has a dog and a coon, and now the goat." 

"Let him have it," said Mr. Hodgen. 
"It won't be in the way, and you haven't 
a long-tail coat, Tom." 

"That's true," replied Mr. Lincoln, 
"but if that goat should form an appetite 
for trousers and eat up my only pair I'd 
be in a bad fix." 

Abraham did not speak while the dis- 



162 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

ciission between his father and Mr. Hod- 
gen was going on, but when it was finally 
settled that he could accept the gift he 
said: "I'm mighty glad he's mine, and 
I don't think father will mind the goat 
much when he gets used to him; all ani- 
mals, even people, have a funny smell. A 
horse may not like something about a 
man, but just suppose he'd try to throw 
the man every time he rode him. It's 
best for men and animals not to notice 
things they don't like in each other." 

"It was a big job," said Mr. Gollaher, 
"to take the goat home that afternoon. 
He did lots of cutting up, and was some- 
times inclined to use his head in urging 
his objection to the change of residence. 
To the surprise of both Abe and myself, 
Mr. Lincoln helped us when Billy became 
too unruly. However, at one time during 
the trip home I thought the jig was up. 
Mr. Lincoln had stooped over to tie his 
shoe, and the goat, breaking loose from 
Abe, made a center drive. Well, it was 



THE GOAT AND THE COAT 163 

funny; Mrs. Lincoln laughed and I got 
behind a tree and fairly screamed. But 
Abe looked as solemn as a judge. He was 
too badly scared to laugh ; he thought the 
goat's doom was at hand. But to our sur- 
prise and gratification, Mr. Lincoln be- 
gan to smile, then he said: *I have de- 
cided to try to keep from getting mad 
over small matters.' 

*'Abe and I were lagging behind coax- 
ing the goat, and I had begun to wish that 
he hadn't eaten the tail off of Mr. Kirk- 
patrick's coat. 

*' 'Austin, I believe father did get a lit- 
tle religion during camp-meeting,' said 
Abe. 'He must or he'd have kicked Billy 
all the way back to Mr. John's. I was 
scared. Do you think he smells bad?' 
Abraham asked dryly. 

" 'Well, I reckon he does,' I answered. 
'But mother says goats keep away certain 
kinds of sickness from folks and that 
horses and mules never get sick if a goat 
stays in the field with them.' " 



164 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

For several days the boys were puzzled 
over Mr. Lincoln's friendliness toward 
Billy; he was seen several times to pat 
him on the head, and never once did he of- 
fer to kick him. But it soon developed 
that somebody had told Mr. Lincoln that 
it was good luck to own a goat. Now, Abra- 
ham's father was not super-supersti- 
tious, but he evidently believed it worth 
while to be a little courteous toward the 
goat, hoping that Billy might be the 
means of helping him over some of life's 
rough places. 



CHAPTER XX 

THE RESCUE 

The Rolling Fork, a tempestuous little 
river, separated LaRue from Nelson 
County. It was a most dangerous stream 
and numbered its victims by the hun- 
dreds. Before the bridge-building era, 
sign-boards at every ford warned the 
traveler not to try to cross over if the wa- 
ter was colored with mud. Those who 
failed to heed often paid for their 
stubbornness. 

Thomas Lincoln was made overseer of 
that part of the ridge-road which led from 
Hodgen's Mill to the Rolling Fork, a dis- 
tance of eight or ten miles. He was en- 
thusiastic over the honor bestowed upon 
him by the Hardin County Court and 
spent much of his time riding a small 
165 



166 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

mule along the road, mapping out in his 
mind methods of improvement. Late one 
evening he came home drenched, muddy 
and highly excited, and announced that he 
had lost his mule and pretty nearly his 
own life. He had attempted to ford the 
river; the mule, a small one, could not 
carry his rider, and in a few moments, 
went down. Mr. Lincoln was hurled to 
the opposite side of the river, where he 
seized the overhanging limb of a small 
tree and pulled himself ashore. So out- 
raged was he that he threatened to sue 
Hardin County for the loss of the mule, 
but when convinced that such a suit would 
be futile, because he had no business on 
the Nelson County side of the river, he 
dropped the matter and resigned as over- 
seer of the road. The loss of the mule was 
a severe one, since it was the only work 
animal Mr. Lincoln possessed. 

On one occasion Abraham and Austin 
Gollaher, with their fathers and one or 



THE EESCUE 167 

two neighbors, walked four miles to the 
Rolling Fork to see the high waters rush- 
ing over the lowlands and tearing through 
the valleys like a yellow snake. 

"Austin," Abe said thoughtfully, "that 
water acts like something has made it 
mad, and it is taking its spite out on the 
trees and rocks and hills. I call it the 
'Mad River.' " Then he turned his eyes 
away from the muddy terrifying water to 
the pleasanter sight of the quiet valleys 
that had not yet been inundated. 

"Look, father, look down yonder!" he 
suddenly exclaimed, tugging at his fa- 
ther's coat sleeve. "There's a mule down 
there with something on its back, and I 
don't see any man with it." 

"You are right," said Mr. Lincoln; and 
the party of sight-seers hurried to the foot 
of the hill, forgetting the river in their 
eagerness to investigate the mystery of 
the mule. 

A sack strapped to its back contained 
some pans and cups and a few small tools. 



168 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

The pioneers were puzzled but at the same 
time convinced that a traveler had been 
caught in the current of the river and had 
perished. It was decided that the mule 
should become the property of Thomas 
Lincoln, if the owner could not be found, 
because it was first seen by Abraham. 
As Mr. Lincoln needed a mule, he was 
much elated over what he considered his 
good fortune and exclaimed: *'The river 
took my mule from me, now it brings me 
another. God has been good to me during 
the past year. ' ' 

*'But, father," Abraham said in his 
quiet way, "God didn't have anything to 
do with your getting the mule, because the 
man who owned it must have lost his life 
in the river." 

Mr. Lincoln did not like this reminder 
that he had gained the mule at the cost of 
a human life and was about to reiDrimand 
his son, but Mr. Gollaher averred that as 
Abe had found the mule he had a right to 
express himself on the subject. 



THE RESCUE 169 

'*Be quiet a minute," exclaimed 
Brownfield, one of the now homeward 
bound party; "I heard somebody 
calling. ' ^ 

*'Help!" came a cry from the woods. 

''Shout again!" was the answer from a 
half dozen throats, and following the di- 
rection of the sound, the pioneers soon 
came upon a man propped against a tree. 
His clothing was wet and muddy and 
torn, and his face was gaunt from hunger, 
but the sight of kindly people around him 
seemed to revive him and he said in a low 
husky voice : 

*'My name is Jonathan Keith; I was 
caught in the current of the stream day 
before yesterday, in the afternoon, and I 
have been in the forest ever since without 
food or shelter. I reckon my companion 
and his mule were drowned." 

He was informed that the mule had 
been found, but that there was no sign of 
his rider. The unfortunate man then ex- 
plained that he and his friend Wilson, 



170 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

both of North Carolina, were prospecting, 
and that when they came to the river they 
attempted to ride the mule across, one be- 
hind the other, but that hardly were they 
in the water than they were caught in a 
swift undercurrent and hurled to what 
seemed certain death. Mr. Keith said 
that he fought the river and its whirlpools 
imtil he reached the bank and pulled him- 
self out, but that his companion and the 
mule went down. 

"Then," said Thomas Lincoln, ''maybe 
this ain't his mule." 

*^ Was the mule bareback, or did he have 
something strapped to him?" asked Mr. 
Gollaher. 

''He had a sack with some cups and 
pans and some small tools in it, strapped 
to his back, ' ' was the answer. 

"Then," said Mr. Gollaher, "the mule 
we found was the property of your com- 
panion, and in case of his death it should, 
in my opinion, fall to you, if not claimed 
bv relatives of Mr. "Wilson." 



THE RESCUE 171 

To this Mr. Lincoln very readily 
agreed, and the unfortunate stranger was 
assisted to the Lincoln home where he was 
told he might remain until a search could 
be made for the lost companion. Several 
days later, the body was found in the 
prongs of a small tree two miles from the 
ford where he met death. 

''Stay right here with me during the 
winter, Mr. Keith, and help me with my 
traps," invited Mr. Lincoln, ''and I will 
give you a share. And," he continued, 
"if you will stay with me through the 
summer and use the mule in cultivating 
the crop, I will give you half." 

Keith agreed, and so became a fixture 
in the community. Indeed, he never left 
it. But Jonathan Keith was not success- 
ful as a farmer ; he preferred to make bas- 
kets of willow and buckets of cedar and to 
do odd jobs of tinkering here and there. 
He and Abraham became good friends, 
for he too believed that the unnecessary 
slaughter of game was all wrong, and was 



172 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

of the opinion that every boy should learn 
to read and write. 

^'Mr. Keith was a mighty good man," 
said Mr. Gollaher, "he was patient and 
kind, and all of the children in our com- 
munity liked him. He taught Abe and me 
how to make small willow baskets, and one 
time we sent six or eight of them to 
Bardstown and swapped them for some 
fishing hooks and lines." 



CHAPTER XXI 

honey's old master 

Within a dozen feet of them mumbling 
to himself and peeping mysteriously from 
behind a tree stood a little man, pinched 
of face and stooj)-shouldered, frightful to 
look upon. His yellow, shaggy, dog-like 
hair fell over his eyes and ears, and there 
was a scar half circling from the corner 
of his left eye to his chin. 

The stranger's presence was inexplain- 
able ; it seemed as if he must have sprung 
from a hole in the ground, and Abe and 
Austin were both somewhat startled. The 
hair on Honey's back bristled; his mouth 
curled, and he growled through set teeth, 
ready for a battle royal. Instinct warned 
him that he faced an enemy. 

^'Honey, behave yourself!" com- 
173 



174 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

manded Abe when he had recovered from 
the first surprise. But Honey only 
growled the more fiercely. Abe put his 
arm around the dog's neck and tried to 
quiet him, but Honey was not so easily 
appeased; he had fight in him and Abe 
had to cling tightly to keep him from 
springing on the stranger. 

The ugly, dirty, little man seemed be- 
wildered, but he spoke to the dog and 
snapped his fingers at him in an effort 
to make friends, though there was no in- 
clination on the part of Honey to be 
friendly. 

**Go away, or he will tear you to 
pieces," warned Austin; but the man did 
not move. 

"Where did you get that dog?" But 
before Abe or Austin could answer he con- 
tinued : * ' I believe on my soul it 's my dog 
Whistle, come back to life. Whistle, don't 
you know me? Don't you know your old 
master? Come to me. Whistle; I want 
you. I want you to forgive me." 



HONEY'S OLD MASTER 175 

But Honey only snapped and growled 
the louder. 

*' Where 'd you get the dog? Where 'd 
you get my Whistle?'' the little man in- 
quired pathetically. 

Abe and Austin were too astonished to 
answer; they were quite convinced now 
that the man was crazy. Finally he re- 
peated the question, and Abe replied : 

**!N"o, sir, this is not your dog; he is my 
dog. I found him in the road with his leg 
broken, and I fixed his leg and nursed 
him till he got well. He's my dog, and no- 
body can take him from me." 

^'Exactly, exactly," mumbled the little 
man. ^'I know now Whistle was not killed. 
I thought he was dead when I saw him at 
the foot of the cliff with blood running 
from his mouth, and I went away and 
left him. I want him back ; he is my dog, ' ' 
the old fellow whined. 

* ' How did Honey get hurt ? " 

"Well," came the shamefaced answer, 
"I got mad at him because he wouldn't 



176 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

mind me, and I kicked him with my heavy 
shoe and he rolled over the cliff, and when 
I looked down I thought he was dead. 
And I felt sorry for him, and went away 
and left him there." 

"Then there came into Abe's face a 
terrifying expression," said Mr. Golla- 
her. **It wasn't anger; it was righteous 
wrath, I suppose ; I don't know how to de- 
scribe it. But when Abe opened his 
mouth and spoke, I knew there was fight 
and defiance in every word. 

" 'If you try to take Honey away from 
me, I'll make him tear you up,' he said. 
*I'll make him grab you by the throat. 
Let's see you take him,' and there was a 
blazing light in his eyes. 'I dare you to 
try to put your hands on him ! Here he 
is, take him! Why don't you take him? 
You are a coward!' 

*'A11 the time Abe was speaking. Honey 
was growling and gnashing his teeth. The 
two warriors were defiant and ready for 
battle. I was a little frightened, but it 



HONEY'S OLD MASTER 177 

tickled me to hear Abe talking that way, 
because I had always wanted to see him 
fight. 

'' 'Why/ Abe continued, 'what right 
have you got to Honey ? You tried to kill 
him; you kicked him and broke his leg 
and left him bleeding to death. Look at 
Honey's leg now, all twisted, because you 
kicked him over the cliff. Why don't you 
fall over a hill yourself, and break your 
own leg ? Then you will know how Honey 
felt. A dog suffers when he is hurt just 
as much as a human. No, sir, you can't 
get Honey ! He would rather die than go 
with you, and I would rather die than let 
him!' were Abe's parting words to 
Honey's old master." 

"Come on, Austin, let's go," said Abe, 
and the boys retraced their steps toward 
the Lincoln cabin. 

"Look, Abe," cried Austin excitedly, 
"that old man is following us, and he has 
a big stick in his hand." 

"Let him follow," answered Abe, "fa- 



178 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

ther and Mr. Keith are at home and 
they'll give hini a thrashing if he fools 
with them ; and anybody who treats a dog 
like he treated Honey ought to have a 
whipping." 

The stranger followed close behind the 
boys until they reached the cabin, where 
with one voice they excitedly related their 
adventure with the dirty little man in the 
woods. Mr. Lincoln, who happened to be 
in the house, met the stranger and po- 
litely asked what he could do for him. 

*'I want my dog Whistle,'' he said, and 
there was a tone of demand in his voice. 

*^My friend," answered Mr. Lincoln, 
*'you can't have the dog; even if I should 
consent I don't believe you could persuade 
the dog to go with you. He would tear 
you to pieces. He's trying to get at you 
now. He very likely remembers your 
cruel treatment." 

**Well, sir," Mr. Gollaher commented, 
^'when Abe heard his father talking that 
way his face fairly beamed." 



HONEY'S OLD MASTER 179 

"I will have him," the little man cried 
out, as he reached for a knife that hung 
from his belt. 

But Mr. Lincoln was too quick for him. 
His arm shot out and the belligerent 
stranger tumbled in a knot to the ground. 
Then Mr. Lincoln lifted him up, and shak- 
ing him, said: *'I believe you are an es- 
caped criminal. What are you doing 
prowling around in this neighborhood?" 

The dirty face whitened, and he began 
to whine and beg. 

"Let him go, father," Abe put in; "let 
him get out of this neighborhood." 

But Mr. Lincoln questioned him fur- 
ther, believing that the man might be 
wanted by the officers of the law. 

"What is your right name?" asked Mr. 
Keith who had heard the story and 
watched the encounter. 

"Rolling Stone," was the sarcastic 
answer. 

"Very well," answered Mr. Keith, 
"we'll just roll Mr. Rolling Stone to 



180 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

Elizabethtown and hold him in jail while 
his past record is investigated. ' ' 

And so they delivered the strange little 
man to the jailer at Elizabethtown, who 
held him until it was learned that he was a 
harmless, half-witted rover, who never be- 
fore had made trouble for any one. He 
had sense enough, however, to stay away 
from Abe and his dog, and never again to 
visit the Knob Creek community. 



CHAPTER XXII 

EOBINSON CRUSOE 

*^What are you crying about, Abe?" 
Austin asked sympathetically, when he 
found his playmate leaning against a tree 
in the yard of the Lincoln home. 

**I'm not crying, my eyes are just wa- 
tering,'' Abe answered. 

"Did you get something in your eye?" 

"No, Austin, I just feel bad; I feel 
funny down where my heart is, something 
keeps running up to my throat and chokes 
me. I guess it's because mother talked to 
me this morning; she was so good to me." 

"What does she say to you, Abe, that 
makes you feel bad?" inquired Austin. 

"Well, you see, mother talks a lot about 
what will become of me when she goes to 
the other world. She's trying to tell me 
181 



182 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

what to do, and how to get along when she 
is not here any more. She never feels 
well, and I believe she thinks the angels 
are going to come after her soon and take 
her to God. She tells me things she wants 
me to do ; she wants me to be kind to ev- 
erybody — ^to father and to sister ; and she 
wants me to try to learn something from 
books, so that I can either preach or teach 
school." The tears were now trickling 
down Abe's cheeks, and he was sobbing as 
if his heart was broken; he did not at- 
tempt further to conceal his tears from 
Austin, for by this time he, too, was 
weeping. 

*'I have forgiven that preacher who 
went away with my cap, because mother 
said she didn't believe he aimed to steal 
it," said Abe, as he wiped the tears from 
his eyes with his sleeves. **And you re- 
member one day when he was preaching 
he said that every boy he ever knew who 
loved his mother and did what she told 
him to do, never had any trouble getting 




^x 






rt o 

I- 



O 



H 



ROBINSON CRUSOE 183 

along in the world ; well, I believe lie told 
the truth. I am going to try to do what I 
think mother wants me to do. She's the 
best friend I have and she's good to me, 
and if she should leave me I reckon I'd 
never be much account, because I would 
always be thinking about her, and 
wouldn't have time to study my lessons." 
*'I know one thing," said Austin, his 
tear-stained eyes snapping, ^'a boy's 
mother's better to him than anybody else ; 
she's a heap better to him than his father, 
and when she whips him, she whips him 
easy, and when he cries she stops. Some- 
times when a boy cries, and tells his fa- 
ther he's hurting, he won't stop. You re- 
member the time father whipped me for 
talking back to old man Evans, don't you ? 
Well, there were marks around my legs 
for two or three days, and when mother 
saw the marks she called father and told 
him that he mustn't whip me that way any 
more. And she told him, too, that old man 
Evans was a scamp, and that I oughtn't 



184 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

to have been whipped so hard on his ac- 
count, anyhow." 

Abe agreed fully with everything Aus- 
tin said about mothers, adding: ''Mother 
never did whip me ; she has just spanked 
me a few times for being slow in bringing 
water from the spring. And I'll tell you 
what," he continued, "I just can't move 
along fast like some boys, because I see so 
many little foolish things that just seem 
to make me stop; and I can't help it to 
save my life. Whj^ not long ago, when I 
went to the spring I saw a big cow snake 
hanging to a limb of a tree ; he was almost 
covered with leaves and was trying his best 
to get to a nest of little young birds. Well, 
I had to get him out of the tree, and T 
threw at him until my arm was tired be- 
fore I killed him. But when I told mother 
what I had been doing, she said it was all 
right, and patted me on the head, and told 
me to take all the time I needed to kill 
snakes and save the lives of birds. Now, 
you see," continued Abe, "father 



ROBINSON CRUSOE 185 

wouldn't have done that way, because I 
reckon he wouldn't have cared if the 
snake got the birds. Mother said one time 
she made father turn a lot of turkeys 
loose, because he had caught too many of 
them. But that was when they were 
sweethearts, and father would then do 
anything she told him to, because he was 
afraid some other man would come along 
and be better to her and take her away 
from him." 

The boys had both forgotten their sor- 
rows by this time and Austin said : 

'* Let's take the billy-goat down to the 
creek and wash him with some lye soap." 

"He won't let us wash him," replied 
Abe emphatically. "I tried to put him in 
the water yesterday, and he just tucked 
his head down, shoved it against me and 
pushed me up the hill. He won't go about 
water. I reckon it's a goat's nature to be 
like that, and you know Mr. John says 
it's mighty hard to change, to change — 
what you call if? — to change from the 



186 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

way we are to something else. He says 
that's the reason I can't move any faster 
than I do." 

'*Then," said Austin, "let's get Honey 
and go down to the Nice Stone and watch 
the squirrels. But we won't get on top of 
the stone, because yesterday when I was 
down there it looked to me like one of 
those big rocks was about ready to fall." 

*' All right," assented Abe, "but did you 
know they saw some bear tracks in the 
mud up there by Mr. Enlow's place 
yesterday?" 

"Yes," Austin grinned, "but bears 
won't bother you if you leave them alone; 
and besides, if one should try to get us I 
could shoot him. I cleaned my gun good 
this morning, and put a lot of powder in 
the load, and I believe I could hit a bear 
square between the eyes." 

Abe blew his whistle for Honey, but the 
dog came rather slowly. 

"He's afraid I'm going to give him 
back to his old master." 



ROBINSON CRUSOE 187 

** Don't get close to the Nice Stone, 
Abe," warned Austin, *^just look how 
loose that big rock looks." 

** Honey, go find a squirrel," com^ 
manded Abe, but Honey was not anxious 
to go alone into the woods, and Abe had 
to talk to him, assuring him that all was 
well, and that he need not fear he would 
ever again fall into the hands of the man 
who had treated him so cruelly. Finally 
Honey went, reluctantly, but in a few mo- 
ments came bouncing back, barking and 
full of excitement. 

"Whenever Honey acts that way," said 
Abe, "there's something he sees or hears 
that he ain't used to. It might be that 
bear; so let's go back to the house and tell 
the folks about it." 

Abe was right so many times about such 
matters that Austin readily agreed to fol- 
low his suggestion, and the two ran to the 
house and told of Honey's queer actions. 

Jonathan Keith consented to go back 
with the boys to see if Honey had dis- 



188 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

covered something unusual. About one 
half mile from the Nice Stone they found 
a man and woman camped on a knoll. A 
The strangers greeted them with cordial 
salutations, and informed them that they 
were traveling toward Indiana, where 
they intended to reside. A quilt was 
spread upon the grass and on the quilt 
were two or three books. Abe's eyes fell 
upon them and his curiosity getting the 
better of him, he asked whether one of the 
books was named Robinson Crusoe. 

The woman laughed and answered: 
*'No, they are readers, and we are school- 
teachers. We are going to Indiana to 
teach." 

*'Why don't you stay here and teach 
school?" quickly asked Abe. 

** Because," answered the woman 
kindly, ''the community is not thickly set- 
tled, and we are afraid we could not get 
enough children in the school to pay us, 
my boy." 

"Well," said Abe assuringly, "I'd go 



ROBINSON CRUSOE 189 

to school to you, and would do anything 
you wanted me to do." 

"Do you want to learn to read and 
write?" the woman asked. 

"I can already read, and can write a 
little bit," answered Abe. "I can spell 
hen and cat, and dog and fox, mill, horse, 
squirrel and some other words." 

* ' That 's fine, ' ' said the woman. * ^ Now, 
let me hear you spell squirrel." 

**S-q-u-r-i-l," responded Abe hurriedly. 

*' You nearly had it right ; try again and 
go slowly," she said. 

Abe studied for a moment, and then 
very slowly felt his way, spelling: 
*'S-q-u-i-r-r-e-l." 

''That is fine, my boy; I would like to 
have you for one of my children; you'd 
learn quickly." 

"Please stay here," pleaded Abe, "I 
want to learn to read and write. Did you 
ever hear of a book called B. Crusoe'^ 
About a man on an island, who was good 
to a black man he called Friday?" 



190 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

*' Indeed, I have,'' the woman an- 
swered, smiling, "I have it over there in 
that sack. Do you want to see it?" she 
asked. 

Abe in his excitement, commenced to 
untie the sack, but soon remembered him- 
self, and very much embarrassed, asked 
the woman to forgive him. She grabbed 
him and hugged him, then untied the sack 
and brought forth the copy of Robinson 
Crusoe. 

*'Well, sir," said Mr. Gollaher, taking 
up the narrative, ''I see that boy's happy 
face right now; I do believe it was the 
first time I ever saw Abe so completely 
happy." 

"Come and go home with us," begged 
Abe. "I want you to see my mother. We 
live right over there; it won't take you 
long. Come and stay a week and read 
that book to me, and some day I will pay 
you back," he said, looking pleadingly 
into the smiling face of the woman. 

The man and woman accepted Abe's in- 



ROBINSON CRUSOE 19] 

vitation, and, after strapping their be- 
longings to the back of their horse, the 
boys and their new friends repaired to 
the home of Thomas Lincoln. They in- 
troduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. 
Dawson, and Mrs. Lincoln gave them a 
most cordial welcome, saying she would 
be glad to keep them for an indefinite 
visit if she had the room. 

** Mother," pleaded Abe, ** can't we keep 
them long enough for Mrs. Dawson to read 
Robinson Crusoe to me? Let them sleep 
in the loft, and I will sleep in the stable ; 
the fodder makes a fine^bed." 

"My son, I would be glad to do this for 
you if we had some way to make Mr. and 
Mrs. Dawson comfortable," said Mrs. 
Lincoln. 

"Then I'll tell you what we can do," ex- 
claimed Abe, pointing his long forefinger 
toward the west. "You all can stay at 
Mr. Hodgen's. He and his mother have a 
big house, and there will be plenty of room 
there for all of us. I'll go over with you 



192 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

and tell Mrs. Hodgen that I want you to 
stay and she will let you, and be mighty 
glad, too. Now, mother, can't I go with 
them to Mrs. Hodgen 's^" the boy begged 
fervently. 

But Mr. and Mrs. Dawson insisted that 
they must proceed with their journey, 
that they did not feel that they could lose 
the time, even if Mr. Hodgen and his 
mother should endorse the invitation Abe 
had given. 

''But that lad was persistent," said Mr. 
Gollaher, "and the Dawsons finally 
agreed to spend the night with the Hod- 
gens if agreeable to them. So, with his 
mother's consent, Abe went with the 
strangers to make the introductions." 

Mrs. Hodgen met them with open arms 
and joined with Abe in an effort to get 
the teachers to locate permanently in that 
community, but they were firm in their 
decision to settle in Indiana. However, 
they did agree to spend a few days with 
Mr. and Mrs. Hodgen. 



ROBINSON CRUSOE 193 

Abe, of course, was invited to remain 
in the Hodgen home as long as the teach- 
ers would stay, and his mother gave her 
permission. 

^'Mrs. Dawson read Rohinson Crusoe to 
him, and when I saw him several days 
later, he was feeling mighty good over his 
education," said Mr. Gollaher. **I 
thought maybe he would get in the habit 
of feeling happy and would smile oftener, 
but he didn't," continued Mr. Gollaher. 
"I'll tell you that boy worried me a lot be- 
cause he looked sad all the time. The only 
way you could tell he was feeling good 
was when he moved around quicker or 
talked more than usual. But he didn't 
cry any more about his mother for sev- 
eral days, then all at once he grew sad 
again, and I couldn't get him out in the 
woods to play. So, finally, one day I 
thought I'd talk a little rough, and I said, 
*Abe, you haven't got any sense; you just 
hang around the house and act like some- 
body's dead, and if you don't get out of 



194 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

that way of doing I am going to get some 
other boy to play with me.' Well, sir, 
don't you know that kind of made Abe 
think a little bit and he never again had 
one of those prolonged spells of depres- 
sion." 



CHAPTER XXIII 

Sarah's swing 

When Jonathan Keith completed the 
grape-vine swing for Sarah Lincoln, it 
was the nicest and best swing of that kind 
in the whole country, and there were 
many grape-vine swings scattered 
through the hills, too. Mr. Lincoln, who 
was something of a carpenter, made the 
box seat, and Mrs. Lincoln did some up- 
holstering with a sheepskin. The grape- 
vines were securely looped around the 
box, and Mr. Keith smoothed and notched 
a big limb, growing high up on an oak 
tree which sheltered much of the Lincoln 
yard, and then over the smoothly-notched 
limb the vines were fastened, and Sarah's 
swing was complete. 

All was ready for ''the trip to the 
195 



196 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

moon," that Mr. Keith had been promis- 
ing her, and Abe and Austin watched the 
proceedings with interest. They were 
anxious to be asked to take one of those de- 
lightful trips, but Sarah not even hinted 
at such a thing. 

**I reckon we will have to build a swing 
of our own down on Knob Creek," said 
Austin. 

*'You boys may swing when Sarah is 
tired or when she has something else to 
do," said Mr. Lincoln, "but when she 
wants to make her trips to the moon, you 
two must wait. Do you understand 1 ' ' 

"Yes, sir," answered both boys. 

"We are going to make us a swing down 
on the creek," announced Austin. "It's 
lots nicer down there anyhow, and Abe 
and I can have more fun by ourselves." 

"Very well," said Mr. Lincoln. "Get 
the vines and I will make the box." 

Sarah kept the swing going sometimes 
until she got dizzy-headed, and then her 
mother would forbid her to swing until 



SARAH'S SWING 197 

she felt better. It was thus through 
Sarah's misfortune that Abe and Austin 
were now and then given a chance to use 
that popular vehicle. 

*' Austin, I like to swing," shouted Abe, 
as Austin gave to him the needed shove. 
"I like it because something funny comes 
in my breast that takes that heavy feeling 
out." 

''I like it too," said Austin, *' because it 
makes me feel like I 'm flying. Next sum- 
mer we will build a good one down there 
by the Nice Stone, and then we can swing 
as long as we want to. ' ' 

"Sarah will get tired after a while and 
then we can use this one, ' ' answered Abe. 

But Sarah did not get tired, though she 
quit swinging because a very unusual and 
frightful thing occurred that made her 
afraid to go near the swing for a long 
time. 

The little girl had climbed into the box 
seat, and had given a strong pull on the 
"starting vine," which was attached to a 



198 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

small tree near by, when, with a frightful 
scream, she jumped from the box and fell 
to the ground. Abe lifted Sarah into his 
strong arms and held her close to his 
breast, while Austin ran for Mrs. Lincoln. 
Finally, Sarah opened her eyes and 
pointed toward the swing, screaming 
frantically. 

*'Come here, Abe," shouted Austin, as 
Mrs. Lincoln bathed her little girl's head. 
"That's it; there's what scared her." 

In the bottom of the box seat was a huge 
cow snake, coiled up and blinking lazily 
in the autumn sun. 

"Well, I'll fix him," said Austin, who 
frequently bragged about being a snake- 
charmer, and with that he reached into 
the box, lifted the ugly reptile out and 
dropped it on the ground. "Let's drag 
him out there in the field and let Honey 
kill him." 

But it wasn't quite so easy as they 
thought, and Honey had the tussel of his 
life. 



SARAH'S SWING 199 

It was many a day before Sarah would 
go near the swing, so Abe and Austin used 
it to their hearts' content. 

"Now, Austin," said Abe, "do you 
reckon anybody would ever accuse us of 
putting the snake there?" 

"I would hate to think I was that mean, 
wouldn't you?" asked Austin. 

"I don't see how some people sleep at 
night," continued Abe; "it looks to me 
like the mean things they do during the 
day would make such a noise in their ears 
that they would stay awake all night. 
Whenever I do something that ain't just 
right, I can't go to sleep for a long time, 
because there is a funny noise in my ears 
— something seems to ask: *Why'd you 
do that, Abe ? Why 'd you do that r " 



CHAPTER XXIV 

STEALING TIME 

In an abundant corn-crop there was 
ease of mind and a winter's happiness for 
the pioneer. If he had more than enough 
to meet the needs of his family he was 
ready with a helping hand for friend or 
neighbor, who had been less fortunate. 

When the children were old enough to 
toddle, they were taught that their inter- 
est in the corn-field was as great as that 
of the oldest member of the family. They 
learned early in life that the corn-crop 
was not being cultivated for the markets, 
or for the love of money, but for the neces- 
sity of the cabin home. They were taught 
to work and were impressed with the be- 
lief that the harder the lick, the bigger the 
corncake would be. 

200 



STEALING TIME 201 

''Abe, you and Austin have done 
mighty good with those four rows of 
corn," said Austin's father, "and I think 
we'll have to give you extra rations for 
supper. I am not a bit sorry, ' ' he contin- 
ued, "that Tom Lincoln and I are going 
halvers on that patch of corn. It appears 
to me, Austin, that you work better when 
Abe is with you. I reckon you did two 
rows each, didn't you'?" asked Mr. 
Gollaher. 

Austin's head dropped. 

"Out with it, Austin; how many rows 
did you do? Tell the truth," his father 
commanded. 

"One," replied Austin. 

"What made you work so slow?" asked 
Mr. Gollaher. "You are quicker than 
Abe when it comes to play, and in every- 
thing else where getting about is required. 
Why did you let Abe do three rows to 
your one?" 

"I've been feeling bad in my side, fa- 
ther, ever since the day I fell out of the 



202 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

tree, and it hurts me to stoop," Austin 
explained. 

"But youVe been doing lots of running 
around since then. I think I'll have to 
punish you," Mr. Gollaher announced 
menacingly as if the punishment was go- 
ing to be severe. *^Now, I'll tell you what 
you will have to do, Austin," he went on. 
^'You'll have to catch up with Abe. So, 
to-morrow morning you'll go to work be- 
fore sunup and stick to it till it gets dark. 
You see, son, Abe 's pappy and I are part- 
ners in that patch of corn, and it wouldn't 
be fair to let Abe do so much more of the 
work than you do." 

"I'll get up, too, and help him, Mr. Gol- 
laher," said Abe eagerly. 

"But I can't let you do that, Abe ; Aus- 
tin must do his part. Can't you see, boys, 
that it wouldn't be fair for either one of 
you to do more than the other, because, as 
I explained, Mr. Lincoln and I are part- 
ners in the patch, and each has agreed to 
do his share of work." 



STEALING TIME 203 

There was no complaint from either boy 
over the form of Austin's punishment, 
each, perhaps, feeling the justice of it; 
but Abe was full of sadness. Austin was 
out early the next morning and worked 
hard and late to catch up with Abe, and 
Abe was there just a little earlier than 
usual, hopeful that he might find some 
way to help his unfortunate comrade. 

"Austin,'' said Abe, as they were hoe- 
ing the next day, "they say crows can 
talk if you catch them when they are 
young and teach them, and that they'll 
follow you around like a pet chicken. Do 
you reckon we could catch one f" he asked. 

"We can set a trap here in the corn and 
try," replied Austin. 

After several unsuccessful attempts 
they captured a young crow, and Abe 
clipped its wings and kept it tied up until 
he had tamed it. He fed and petted it and 
tried in many ways to teach it to talk, but 
the crow didn't quite understand and re- 
fused to abandon his native "caw." 



204 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

*'It looks at me with its head turned to 
one side like it wants to talk, but it won't 
say a word," Abe declared, "and I don't 
believe a crow can talk unless its tongue is 
split like your mother said, and I 
wouldn't want to do that." 

Abe's pets now numbered four : Honey, 
the crow, the goat and a pet coon. When 
he played around his home all four were 
with him, but when he went into the woods 
Honey only accompanied him. The coon 
gave him much trouble, and Abe wasn't 
so fond of him as he was of the crow or the 
goat. In fact the coon had tried to run 
away several times, but Honey always 
rounded him up and brought him back. 

A few days later Mr. Gollaher made an- 
other tour of inspection. 

''I have caught up," said Austin, full 
of enthusiasm when his father appeared. 

Mr. Gollaher counted the rows and then 
did a little problem in mental arithmetic. 

"Hold on a minute," he said; and 
he counted the rows again. 



STEALING TIME 205 

Abe looked at Austin, and Austin 
looked at Abe. 

Finally Mr. Gollaher said: *'Abe, you 
have done only six rows in three days. 
The first day you did three of them. It 
looks to me like you have been fooling 
away your time so Austin could catch up 
with you. That won't do, boys," he con- 
tinued, ''that's not right. I am going over 
to Hodgen's Mill to-morrow, Abe, and I 
am going to ask your pappy to let you go 
along with me. Then Austin can catch up 
with you in the right way. You boys 
haven't been honest with me, but I don't 
believe Abe should be punished because he 
got into trouble out of the goodness of his 
heart." 

"What do you mean by we haven't been 
honest, Mr. Gollaher"?" asked Abe, "does 
it mean stealing?" 

"It's this way, Abe," explained Mr. 
Gollaher. "When the preacher went 
away with your cap he was dishonest ; he 
stole the cap." 



206 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

**Well," said Abe, ^'I didn't mean to 
steal anything from you and father when 
I worked slow to let Austin catch up with 
me, and I'm mighty sorry. But was it 
sure-enough stealing, Mr. Gollaher?" 

**Yes, Abe; you and Austin were steal- 
ing time from your pappy and me, and, 
when stolen from people for whom you 
are working, time is just the same as 
money, or pelts, or caps." 

Austin Gollaher, the man, said that he 
never forgot that lesson in honesty, and 
from that time on he never again failed to 
give his employer a full day's labor for a 
full day's pay. 

''Austin," said Abe, "I asked Mr. Hod- 
gen if stealing time made us thieves, and 
he said it wasn't exactly stealing, but if 
we kept on cheating that way we might 
soon come to stealing. I asked him how 
we could pay back what we took, and he 
said by working a little harder, or by do- 
ing something extra. So, let's don't go 
with them fishing to-morrow; let's stay 



STEALING TIME 207 

right here in the corn patch and pay them 
a day's work.'* 

"I'll do it," assented Austin. 

And in that way, Abe and Austin 
squared the account. 



CHAPTER XXV 

AUSTIN AND THE COON 

When the Hodgens built the four- 
room, two-story house, shortly after the 
death of Robert Hodgen in 1810, they 
made the rooms large so there would be 
no lack of sj)ace when visitors came that 
way; and subsequent events proved they 
were right since little bands of travelers 
were constantly asking favors of them, — 
a few meals and shelter for a night or two. 
Many who stopped temporarily were per- 
suaded to remain permanently, and so the 
Hodgens' big house helped very materi- 
ally to build up the community. 

There was a great grove of hickory and 

walnut trees almost directly in front of 

the house, and through the grove a stream 

of clear spring water trickled, upon 

208 



r AUSTIN AND THE COON 209 

either side of which were long stretches of 
orchard grass. This grove was one of the 
playgrounds of Abraham Lincoln, and 
when it was decided to build a schoolhouse 
and church, he urged with childish fervor 
that they be built in the grove. He was 
greatly disappointed when another site 
was chosen. 

Since the removal of the Lincolns from 
Cave Spring Farm, where Abraham was 
born, to the farm close to that of the Gol- 
lahers, Thomas Lincoln had grown more 
thrifty, and took a great interest in prep- 
aration for the winter. He cut wood 
and stacked it; he patched the roof; he 
fed his pigs, and looked closer to his sup- 
ply of meal. He was an enthusiastic nut 
gatherer, always had his pockets full of 
walnuts — his favorite — and frequently 
stopped his work to break the shells and 
pick out the kernels. Every week in the 
fall he was in the big grove with his sack 
which he always brought home full. In 
fact, he gathered so many nuts that he 



210 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

could not find storage room for them in 
his small home, so he walled up a place 
under a projecting rock on a hillside back 
of his cabin, and there he put away many 
bushels in the "Lincoln nut cliff," as it 
was called by his neighbors. 

"Austin," said Mr. Lincoln one even- 
ing, "bring your sack over in the morn- 
ing, and you and Abraham may go with 
me to the grove after more nuts. Mr. 
Keith has promised me the mule, and we 
will bring back the sled well loaded." 

While Austin was busy shaking nuts 
from the top of a big tree a coon appeared 
upon the scene, and at once showed fight. 
The boy was so frightened that he 
dropped, but luckily grabbed a limb as he 
was falling and held to it for dear life. 
Not realizing the cause of the commotion, 
Mr. Lincoln cried out : 

"What's the matter up there? Hold 
tight, Austin ; don't lose your head ; if you 
fall it will kill you. 'Coon' it to the 
trunk!" 



AUSTIN AND THE COON 211 

"I can't," screamed Austin. "Don't 
you see that big coon in the hollow of the 
tree ; he's mad ; shoot quick or he'll scratch 
me to pieces." 

Mr. Lincoln saw the trouble; the rifle 
cracked, and an immense coon tumbled to 
the ground. 

"That's the biggest one I have ever 
seen, and it's a mighty lucky thing for 
you, my boy, that he did not get to you," 
said Mr. Lincoln. "Why, that coon would 
have torn your head off if he could have 
got a square lick at you." 

When Austin, who had lost no time get- 
ting to the ground, had caught his breath, 
he said to Abe : "Do you think it was all 
right to kill the coon ? ' ' 

"Yes, I think it was all right," Abe an- 
swered. "I've always said it was right to 
kill animals and varmints and things like 
that when they want to fight." Then he 
added, a twinkle in his eye: "I guess you 
are worth more than the coon, even if they 
can't make caps out of your skin." 



'212 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN"' 

'*Get away from that coon, Honey," ! 
said Mr. Lincoln ; ''his hide will go a long 
ways toward making me a coat." 

*'But, father," said Abe, "ain't you go- ' 
ing to give the coon to Austin ? He found 
it." 

''No, he didn't," replied Mr. Lincoln; 
"the coon found Austin." 



CHAPTER XXVI 

JUST TUKNED AROUND 

The sun was hanging low in the west ; 
the hills were already steeped in shadows, 
and night would soon fall upon field and 
wood. Abraham Lincoln and Austin Gol- 
laher were lost and facing a night in the 
woods. The boys had been aimlessly wan- 
dering for some time, each knowing they 
were lost; neither mentioning it to the 
other. They were hoping that something 
would lead them aright, and that it 
wouldn't be necessary for the one to 
frighten the other by admitting the truth ; 
but finally, realizing the seriousness of 
the situation, they stopped and anxiously 
scanned the chain of blue hills to the east, 
and then looked at each other. 

213 



214 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

"We are just turned around, not lost," 
exclaimed Abe. 

"I know it," said Austin, "but how are 
we going to get turned around right 1" 

"Let's don't get scared, and let's think 
about something," was Abe's very sensi- 
ble suggestion. "Now," he said, "there 
is no use to travel any farther toward the 
hills. It seems like that's the way home, 
but we didn't come over the hills to get 
here, and we couldn't get home by going 
that way." 

"That's so," Austin agreed, "but it 
seems to me if we go any other way we 
won't be going home. It looks like I can 
almost see our houses over there where 
the hills are. We had no business trying 
to come through the woods until we had 
been through with our fathers. But we 
aren't afraid," he added, "because we'll be 
all right if it doesn't storm and — 
thunder." 

"If we could find Knob Creek we could 
get home," remarked Abe reassuringly, 




Knob Creek still has its foot-logs and the children of the hills 
play there to-day as they played more than a hundred years ago 



TOST TURNED. XKDUND 215 

** because there's no place along the creek 
we haven't been. We'd be sure to know 
which way to go, too, if we could see that 
big tall tree that stands on the hill over 
there by Mr. Dawson's house. We've got 
to find something like that before we can 
get out of here. Look for a path, Aus- 
tin," advised Abe, "look good," and he 
clapped his hands to emphasize his com- 
mand, *'and if we find one we'll follow 
it — we'll follow it over that way," and he 
pointed in the direction that seemed di- 
rectly away from home. "Rabbits and 
'possums and other animals," he said, 
"make paths in going to Knob Creek for 
water. I have heard father say that he'd 
followed a narrow trail lots of times in 
looking for water, and that he nearly al- 
ways found it." 

"The sun's about down," said Austin, 
"and before we know it, it will be black 
as pitch in here, and then we'll have to do 
like the men do when they are lost and 
night comes on." 



216 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 

"What do they dof Abe quickly 
asked. 

''They just stop right where they are 
and stay there until daylight, because it 
don't do any good to try to find your way 
when you haven't got a trail to follow. 
So, if we don't find something pretty soon 
we '11 stay where we are till morning. And 
we must keep awake, too, and listen for 
the blasts from the hunters' horn and look 
for the torch-lights, because our fathers 
are sure to be out looking for us. But 
they won't be as scared as they were the 
time you were lost in the cave, because 
they know we are together. I wish your 
mother and Sarah hadn't taken Honey 
with them down to Mrs. Hodgen's. If 
Honey were here he'd know the way 
home." 

But Abe had no intention of spending 
the night in the woods if his acute mind 
could find a way out, and he continued 
his search for a path in the underbrush. 
He examined closely every patch of 



JUST TURNED AROUND 217 

briers, every clump of bushes, getting 
down on his hands and knees in his eager- 
ness to find a trail. 

"Here it is!" he shouted, as the sun 
dropped out of sight. And when Austin 
joined him he saw running through the 
woods and the briers a well-defined path. 
The boys followed it at a gallop, scratch- 
ing their hands and faces as they hurried 
through the tall briers and tangled thick- 
ets. Less than half a mile away they 
found Knob Creek, and were greatly sur- 
prised to discover themselves within a 
stone's throw of their homes. 

**Well," said Austin, "we were 'turned 
around' right where, had we hollered loud 
enough, they would have heard us. The 
next time we'll cut notches in the trees. 
Or we won't go any more unless we take 
Honey with us. I reckon he's got more 
sense than we have," he laughingly 
concluded. 

"It looked like the hills had moved to 
another place, didn't it? — like they had 



218 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

just covered up Knob Creek," said Abe. 
*'We are late, and mother will be uneasy 
about me, but when I tell her we were lost, 
I reckon she'll be so glad we got home all 
right that she won't scold me much. 

"Whenever you're lost," Abe advised 
Austin, as if he were much older, "just 
try to think about what you are doing, 
and don't get scared, and the most of the 
time you will find your way back home. 
That's the reason I want to learn how to 
read ; the books tell you a lot of things — 
they tell you how to keep out of trouble, 
and if you do get in they show you how to 
get out." 



i 



CHAPTER XXVII 

THE GHOST 

Thomas Lincoln sat in front of Ms 
backlog fire. He was picking kernels 
from a heap of walnuts, and was hungrily 
gulping them down. It was early in the 
evening, but Mrs. Lincoln, Abe and Sarah 
were in bed. The moon was shining 
brightly and the first snow of the season 
was falling. It was just the kind of night 
to sit by a warm fire, eat walnuts and 
dream, which Mr. Lincoln was doing in a 
highly satisfactory manner. 

Suddenly there was a rap on the door, 
but before Mr. Lincoln had time to ex- 
tend the settler's usual polite invitation, 
**Come in," the latch-string was silently 
lifted, and a *' ghost" walked into the 
room. The thing had upon its shoulders 
219 



220 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

an ox head, and from its skeleton eyes 
shone flickering flames of light. Its body 
was robed in white, and about its should- 
ers was a large white sheepskin. The 
make-up of the creature was hideous; it 
was so ghastly that Thomas Lincoln stood 
there in the small room shivering and un- 
decided what to do. 

Abraham, who was not yet asleep, 
crawled noiselessly from his trundle bed, 
stole up behind the ghost and tipped the 
skeleton-head of the ox to the floor and 
disclosed a young woman who had but re- 
cently moved into the community, and 
who had a mania for playing pranks. 
Though Mr. Lincoln earnestly impressed 
on her the danger of amusing herself in 
such fantastic ways, she continued to 
frighten people until one evening she was 
given a whipping by two boys who failed 
to see the humor of her practical jokes. 

**Were you afraid of the ghost?" asked 
Austin the next day, when Abe related the 
experience of the previous night. 



THE GHOST 221 

'^No, I wasn't," was the prompt reply, 
*'biit I reckon I would have been if I 
hadn't seen that old ox head over at her 
house a few days before. I asked her 
mother why they were keeping it, and she 
said her daughter used it to scare people 
with. 

"But," continued Abe, smiling faintly; 
"father didn't eat any more walnuts af- 
ter the ghost came, and he told mother 
that devilish girl kind o' made him ner- 
vous. You see, father doesn't exactly be- 
lieve in ghosts, but he says he has seen lots 
of funny things in the woods at night, and 
for that reason he doesn't like to be out 
after dark. Once he was sure he saw an 
Indian war-dance. I can just barely re- 
member one night when we lived on Cave 
Spring Farm, father came home nearly 
scared to death. He told mother he saw a 
giant riding a big lion through the woods, 
and that the lion and the man actually 
tore down the trees as they galloped and 
roared through the timber. Mother put 



222 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 

father to bed, and he didn't get out for a 
long time." 

*'Are you much afraid when it gets 
dark?" asked Austin. 

*'Not much," replied Abe, *' because 
Missus Sarah says the night is just like a 
big room in her house that she keeps dark 
during the day by putting something over 
the window, and she asked me if I would 
be afraid to go into that room while it was 
dark, and when I told her I wouldn't she 
said: *Well, that dark room is just like 
night, and if you are not afraid to go 
where I have made it dark, I know you 
are not afraid to go where God has made 
it dark.' She said the world was God's 
big house, and that when it got dark in the 
world it was because God had put some- 
thing over the window." 



p 



CHAPTER XXVIII 

THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 

The Christmas hunt one hundred years 
or more ago was a big event among the 
settlers. The hunting parties were usu- 
ally made up of not more than eight or 
ten neighbors who were closely identified 
in a social way, and who loved that feat- 
ure of the meet as much as they loved the 
sport. 

When the date was finally set, the bul- 
lets molded and all preparations made, 
the hunters met at a given time and place, 
the routes were mapped out and the 
''stands" selected, each receiving full in- 
structions what to do if something un- 
looked-for should happen. Then the men 
and dogs went forth into the wilderness 
to invade the hiding-places of the turkey, 
223 



224 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

the deer and other game which was then 
so plentiful in Kentucky. 

The crack of the rifle was as music to 
the ears of the backwoodsman, and when 
he heard the faint muffled report of the 
old-time rifle, over there on the hill or 
down in the valley, he smiled and made a 
mark upon a rock or a tree. Each hunter, 
knowing the exact location of his com- 
rades, kept an account of the number of 
shots fired, when the report was within 
reach of his acute and well-trained ears, 
and he could tell within remarkable ac- 
curacy how many pieces of game each 
hunter had brought down during the day, 
when all assembled late in the afternoon 
to make the count, and relate their 
experiences. 

The aim of those hunters was unerring, 
and when one heard the report of a rifle 
it was safe to give the hunter credit for 
another wild creature of the forest. It 
was unusual to miss, and when for any 
reason a wild shot was made, the hunter 



THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 225 

was greatly chagrined, for lie knew his 
comrades of the hunt would "devil" him 
when they met together at the close of the 
day. 

The hunters had signals which were 
obeyed implicitly. The hunter's horn was 
law. It was the call to duty, and every 
man obeyed it. There was to be no wait- 
ing, not for a moment, when that blast 
was sounded. It was considered of such 
importance that there was a standing ad- 
monition that ran something like this: 
"If the game is there and the gun is 
raised, and you hear a blast, don't shoot 
until you have obeyed the law of the 
horn. ' ' 

One short blast of the horn called a cer- 
tain pioneer, two blasts called another, 
and so on, each having a number. One 
long blast was the distress signal, and all 
who heard it went to the comrade that 
made it in all haste. 

"Abe didn't enjoy these annual hunts," 
said Mr. GoUaher, "and when he was very 



226 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

young, shortly after the Lincolns moved 
here, he expressed himself to me — with 
that mild convincing look upon his face 
that always made me feel queer — as being 
* against killing things in the woods that 
don't bother you.' Only once did he take 
part in an expedition. 

**I shall never forget that day," con- 
tinued Mr. Gollaher; "I thought Abe was 
the strangest lad in the world, and I guess 
he was. "V\Tien he heard the report of a 
rifle he had a way of doubling up his 
fists, drawing his face and shrugging his 
shoulders that was most peculiar. He 
was actually beside himself with nervous- 
ness and seemed extremelj^ uncomfort- 
able. Once he whispered to me: ^I hope 
they won't hit an5i:hing. If I could tell 
the turkeys and deer that the men are 
watching for them, I'd do it, so they could 
go into the caves and stay there till the 
hunt is over.' 

"Upon this occasion Abe and I were 
permitted to take a stand with Mr. Hod- 



THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 227 

gen. We were stationed close to a small 
spring which ran out of a rock at the foot 
of a hill. Yonder 's the hill, right over 
there to the east — the one with the dead 
trees at the top/' said the venerable Mr. 
Gollaher, with a wave of his hand. 
** Eight at the foot of that hill we had our 
stand — Mr. Hodgen, Abe and I. That's 
the hill, and that big flat-top rock was 
there then as now. A clump of bushes 
and saplings were just in front of the 
rock, making a good hiding-place for the 
hunter. 

*' There had been many rifle reports 
during the morning and afternoon, and 
Mr. Hodgen had been kept pretty busy 
making marks on the rock. Abe had 
learned to count and had figured up the 
number of ^poor things,' as he called 
them, that had been killed. He asked Mr. 
Hodgen if he believed that every time a 
gun cracked something had been shot, and 
when the question was answered in the 
affirmative, Abe replied in his simple 



228 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

wonderful way: 'It's mighty bad! It 
ain't right!' 

''Mr. Hodgen's hunting horn was lying 
on the rock, close to the marks he had 
scratched, the marks Abe had been scan- 
ning — earnestly and sorrowfully from the 
moment the first one was made early in 
the morning until some time in the after- 
noon — when he himself brought that 
daj^'s hunt abruptly to a close. 

"The weather was wonderfully mild 
for that time of the year, we didn't even 
have to move about to keep our feet warm. 
Abe and I, standing just behind the rock, 
had our pockets full of walnuts and sweet 
cakes. And I at least was having a pretty 
good time watching for game and listen- 
ing to the sound of the guns. Suddenly 
Mr. Hodgen crouched low behind the 
rock. His keen ears had caught the faint 
noise of an animal gliding through the 
forest on the opposite side of Knob Creek. 
I, too, had heard the sound. 

" 'There it is!' cried Abe. And there, 



THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 229 

not more than one hundred and fifty feet 
away, with its head high, stood a fa-wu. 
Mr. Hodgen did not see it immediately, 
and before he could shoot Abe grabbed the 
horn and blew the distress signal. Of 
course the fawn skipped away and was in- 
stantly lost in the deep dark woods on the 
other side of the creek. 

"Well, sir," continued Mr. Gollaher, 
"I was mad enough to jump on Abe and 
give him a good licking, and I fully ex- 
pected Mr. Hodgen to box his jaws, but 
he didn't, he just said, ^Whj^, Abraham!' 
Abe made no reply; he just stood there 
gazing across the creek to where the fawn 
had stood a moment before. 

*^I knew, of course, Abe was in for it; 
I wouldn't have been in his breeches for 
anything I knew of at that time ; but after 
I got in a good humor I felt sorry for him 
and didn't want to see him whipped. I'll 
tell you, Abe had me conjured. 

*'That signal meant that all the hunters 
who heard it would leave their 'stands' at 



230 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

once in answer to the call. Abe seemed 
very much unconcerned, except that he 
was sorry to displease Mr. Hodgen, and 
told him so, but added that he was glad he 
saved the life of the little fawn. 

*'Mr. Lincoln's ^ stand' was the nearest 
to ours, so I knew he would be there in a 
few minutes. I felt sure Mr. Hodgen 
would think Abe deserved a good whip- 
ping, and was therefore greatly surprised 
when he said : * Now, Abraham, we 've got 
to do something to save you. Your father 
will give you a whipping, and I don't 
want him to do that, because I know just 
how you feel about the matter. If you 
had only asked me not to take the life of 
the fawn you would have saved yourself 
all this trouble, for I was not anxious my- 
self to shoot the little thing.' 

*' 'Just let father whip me,' said Abe in 
his matter-of-fact way: *he won't kill me, 
I reckon, and if I hadn't blown the horn 
you would have killed the fawn; you 
couldn't have kept from shooting it.' 



THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 231 

*' *Wliat shall I tell your father when 
he comes, Abe? What shall I tell him?' 

'' ^Tell him I did it. Tell him I blew 
the horn to save the life of the fawn,' was 
Abe's decisive answer. *He can whip me 
all he wants to and I won't cry. ' 

*' *No,' said Mr. Hodgen, *I am going to 
try to save you. ' 

**In a few moments Mr. Lincoln came 
tearing breathlessly through the brush. 

<< * What's wrong?' he cried. 

" *0h, nothing much,' Mr. Hodgen re- 
plied, 'Abraham just unthoughtedly blew 
the horn a little louder than he intended. 
It's about time we were all assembling 
anyhow, and it didn't really make much 
difference,' he added indifferently. 

" 'That was a very bad thing to do, 
Abraham, and I will have to whip you 
when we get home,' announced Mr. 
Lincoln. 

*' 'Tom,' pleaded Mr. Hodgen, 'just a 
light one this time. Abraham will never 
do it again.' 



232 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

*' 'I know I won't, because I am not go- 
ing out with you all again,' and then ho 
let the cat out of the bag by saying: 'I 
just couldn't stand to see Mr. Hodgen 
shoot that little deer.' " 

When the full story came out Mr. Lin- 
coln proposed to whip Abe then and there, 
but Mr. Hodgen protested, saying that 
such punishment should take place in the 
home, not in the open air before others; 
that it was too much like a public 
whipping. 

"Well, did your father whip you very 
hard?" Austin asked the next day. 

*'Yes, he did, and he was mad because I 
didn't cry. The whipping didn't hurt 
much," bragged Abe, *'I think God must 
have kept it from hurting — kept it from 
hurting much, because I saved the life of 
the little deer. 

*' Don't you know, Austin," Abe con- 
tinued seriously, '*God might think as 
much of that little fawn as He does of 
some people, and He might not want it 



THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 233 

killed. How can we be sure that He 
doesn't want it to grow up? You know, 
big deers kill snakes — paw them to death, 
and when that little fawn grows up big 
and strong, he may kill a poisonous snake 
that might have bitten a man or woman or 
child and killed them. How do we know 
that God didn't make me blow that horn 
yesterday?" 

^'Well, sir," said Mr. Gollaher, "that 
was sound argument, and convinced me 
Abe had acted entirely mthin his rights. 
He always convinced me when he thought 
it worth while. He was a philosopher — a 
reasoner — smarter than anybody." 



CHAPTER XXIX 

THE king's little BOY 

"Mother wants Austin to come to see 
Abraham," cried Sarah Lincoln as she 
entered the Gollaher cabin. 

**My child," said Mrs. Gollaher, "Aus- 
tin can't go; he was bitten on the foot by 
a poisonous snake about an hour ago, and 
we have been applying chicken fat to the 
wound ever since to draw out the poison. 
Austin insists it was a harmless water 
snake, not a rattler, but his leg is might- 
ily swollen and we are uneasy about him." 

"Well, I'll declare!" exclaimed Sarah, 
"it's mighty funny. Abraham cut his 
big toe with the ax about the same time 
the snake bit Austin, and we couldn't get 
it to stop bleeding until mother went out 

234 



THE KING'S LITTLE BOY 235 

to the stable and got a lot of spider-webs 
and covered the cut with them." 

In the afternoon the swelling had left 
Austin's leg, and he announced: "I'm 
going over to see Abe, and tell him to get 
his pappy to chew up a lot of tobacco and 
put on the cut place and it will be well by 
morning." 

When he reached the cabin Abe greeted 
him with: ''Why didn't you kill the 
snake, Austin T' 

"He got away from me," Austin ad- 
mitted. "He crawled into a hole in the 
bank of the creek. I thought he was 
asleep, and just for fun I tried to grab 
him back of the head with my toes, — and 
he wasn't asleep. His head shot out and 
he bit me. That's what made father think 
it was a rattler ; they snap that way. But 
water snakes do too when they're feeling 
good. How's your toe?" 

"It's getting all right since mother put 
cobwebs on it." 

"You'd better have somebody chew up 



236 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

some tobacco and put that on it ; it'll heal 
in a hurry then, ' ' advised Austin. 

"It's too bad," Austin went on; *'we 
were going to the mill to-day, and Mr. 
John will wonder why we didn't come, 
unless some of the folks go and tell him 
what has happened." 

"It might have been a heap worse for 
us if we had gone to the mill. Something 
might have happened to us going or com- 
ing. You can't tell. But I'll be mighty 
glad," Abe continued seriously, "when I 
get old enough to wear shoes the year 
round — old enough and make money to 
wear shoes in the summer time. " 

"You may never get old enough to do 
that, Abe," said Austin discouragingly. 
"There are lots of old men and women 
around here that go barefooted the year 
round, and I reckon we would have if the 
old man who works for Mr. Hodgen 
hadn't made the shoes for us last winter. 
You ought to be glad you didn't have your 
shoes on when you cut your foot; your 



THE KING'S LITTLE BOY 23T 

toe will heal up, but the shoe would have 
been ruined." 

Abe smiled at this and asked Austin if 
he'd like to hear a story about a king's lit- 
tie boy in a far-off land. Austin settled 
himself to listen and Abe began : 

** Mother said her aunt told this story 
to her when she was a little girl, so you see 
it is a long time since it happened, and the 
king and his little boy have been dead for 
a hundred years. Well, this king's little 
boy had a twisted foot, and because he 
wasn't straight and active like other boys 
his father didn't like him and was always 
slapping him and mistreating him. One 
day some travelers were passing through 
the country and among them was a beau- 
tiful little boy with long golden curls. 
When the king saw him he wanted to take 
him into his castle and pretend to the peo- 
ple that this was his own child; and he 
wanted to have him learn a lot of things 
from books so that the boy might become 
king when he died. So he swapped his 



238 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

little boy with the twisted foot for the 
poor little boy who belonged to the trav- 
elers, and he gave them a lot of gold be- 
sides. The king's little son was old 
enough to know that he had been traded 
by his father because his foot was twisted 
— because he was ugly and big and kind of 
rough, just like you and me, Austin. So 
he kissed his mother good-by and told her 
he would come back to see her some time. 
*' Well, he worked with his foot, pulling 
it and pressing down upon it, never mind- 
ing the pain, trying to straighten it. One 
day he hired a man to make two boards to 
fit around his foot, giving to the man 
some beads that his mother had given him, 
and then he got the man to wrap the 
boards tight around his foot. He suf- 
fered day and night, but he kept on hav- 
ing the boards drawn tighter until by the 
time he was a young man his foot was 
straight. Then he was determined to be 
a great soldier, and get together a lot of 
soldiers and go back to visit his mother, 



THE KING'S LITTLE BOY 239 

and kill Ms father, and take his place as 
king. He soon had a big army, and with 
it he marched to the land of his father! 
When he got there he sent word to his fa- 
ther that he had come to kill him and take 
his place as king. 

^'When his father learned what was to 
be done he was badly scared and sent for 
his son to come to see him. The son went 
to his father's castle, and his father 
begged him not to kill him, but the son 
said that was why he had come, and he 
would have to do it. Then the soldier's 
mother came in and begged him to spare 
his father's life. He finally said: 'All 
right, mother, for your sake I will not kill 
him. ' Then he sent his messenger out to 
where his army was camped and ordered 
those travelers who traded their boy to 
his father to be brought to the castle. In 
a little while they were there. Then the 
king's son said to the king: 'Get off of 
your throne.' And the king obeyed. 
'JSTow/ said the soldier, 'you see my 



I 



240 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

twisted foot is straight, and with it I will 
kick you out of this castle.' The soldier 
then began to kick the king, and he kicked 
him down the long steps out to the street, 
and there he met the same travelers and 
he said to them: ^Now you must take my 
father and you must treat him just as you 
treated me, and after you have kept him as 
long as you kept me, you may bring him 
back here. If, when you bring him back, 
he has a twisted foot, I will make him 
king again in my place and I will leave 
the country. If he will work as hard to 
twist his foot as I worked to straighten 
mine, he may be successful. ' 

"How do you like that story, Austin?" 
Abe asked. 

"It's a good story," exclaimed Austin, 
"but what became of the pretty little boy 
the traveler left with the king?" 

"Oh, I don't know. It's only a story, 
and even if it was true, the boy's dead for 
a hundred years I reckon, so it makes no 
difference about him." 



CHAPTER XXX 

TWO PRAYEES JUST ALIKE 

**I BELIEVE that's Joel Walters' house 
burning," said Thomas Lincoln, as he and 
the Gollahers watched the bright light of 
a distant fire. 

**It's exactly in their direction," re- 
plied Mr. Gollaher. **We better do a lit- 
tle investigating ; and I guess it would be 
well to take Abe and Austin along. They 
might be of some help." 

They set out at once for the top of the 
hill back of the Lincoln cabin, for from 
there they would have a better view of the 
fire. 

**It certainly is Joel's house," ex- 
claimed Mr. Lincoln. 

**Yes, I am sure of it now," replied Mr. 
Gollaher ; and they ran on down the slope 
241 



242 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

of the hill into the deeply wooded valley 
beyond. 

''That's not Mr. Walters' house," Abe 
said, as he and Austin fell a liMe behind 
the others. 

"Then, if it ain't, why don't you tell the 
Inen, so's we can all go back home?" said 
Austin impatiently. ''It's sprinkling 
rain right now, and I don't want to be 
caught out here in a storm." 

"You tell your father," said Abe, "and 
I 'U tell mine." 

When they had begun to climb the next 
hill, Abe ran to his father and said: 
"That's not Mr. Walters' house." 

"How do you know*?" queried Mr. 
Lincoln. 

Everybody stopped to hear Abe's 
explanation. 

"Because it's not in the right place." 

"It certainly is in the right place," said 
Mr. Lincoln, and Mr. Gollaher nodded his 
head in approval. 

"I'm sure it's not," contended Abe. 



TWO PRAYERS JUST ALIKE 243 

^'Wliy are you so sure, Abe? How do 
you know?" asked Mr. Gollalier. 

^'I'll tell you why. You all know the 
tall poplar tree on top of the hill there by 
our house?" 

*'Yes," answered both men rather 
impatiently. 

*'Well, sir, in the winter when all of its 
leaves are off, that tree looks just like it 
was leaning against the smoke coming out 
of Mr. Walters' chimney; it looks that 
way when you come up the path toward it. 
To-night I sighted that tree against the 
fire, and the fire was way off from it — 
way over there," and Abe pointed to the 
right. 

"Did you ever see such a boy in all your 
life!" exclaimed Mr. Gollalier; "and I'll 
bet my buttons he's right, too." 

It was only a short distance to the top 
of the hill they were on and when they 
reached it, Thomas Lincoln, somewhat out 
of humor, said: "Abraham's right; but 
I don't see why in the mischief he didn't 



244 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLK" 

tell us before we came all the way over 
here. But if it isn't Walters' house burn- 
ing, what is it?" 

''I'll tell you what it is," said Abe. 
''Don't you remember over at Mr. Hod- 
gen's that day we all had dinner there 
that Mr. Walters said he was going to 
burn the hollow trees on his place? He 
said he was going to do it because the wild 
animals and varmints that catch chickens 
live in hollow trees. I remember because 
I thought he oughtn't to." 

"You are right," said Mr. Lincoln. 
"3"oel shouldn't have done it. Such game 
is leaving the country too fast, anyhow.'* 

"Wliy didn't you tell us, Abe?" asked 
Thomas Gollaher, as they were retracing 
their steps through the woods, "why 
didn't you tell us we were on a wild goose 
chase?" 

"I was afraid to," Abe answered. 

"What were you afraid of?" 

"I was a little afraid it might be Mr. 
Walters' house. Then if we hadn't gone 



TWO PRAYERS JUST ALIKE 245 

to help him he'd never have liked me 
again ; he'd have thought I didn't want to 
come and help them out of their trouble. ' ' 

Thomas Gollaher laughed heartily at 
this very sensible answer and said: 
*'Tom, you have a mighty smart boy in 
that youngster." 

A little farther on Austin said ex- 
citedly: "I hear water roaring." 

**So do I. It's Knob Creek," replied 
Abe. 

** Father," said Austin, *^I believe 
Knob Creek's up, and we won't be able to 
cross it." 

*'Look-a-here, Jonathan," Mr. Golla- 
her called to Mr. Keith, "I believe the 
boy's right. It looks like we've been cut 
off from home. It hasn't rained here to 
amount to anything, but I reckon the 
waters above have flushed the stream so 
we can't cross that foot-log." 

It was true. The little mountain 
stream had risen rapidly and was now 
rippling over the foot-log, making it dan- 



246 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

gerous to cross, as the water at that pomt 
was very swift, although not more than 
waist deep. 

By this time it was raining pretty hard 
and the men realized it would be useless 
to attempt to reach their homes that 
night. So they halloed to their families 
and sought shelter in a cliff high above 
the water, to await the pleasure of Knob 
Creek; but the little stream continued to 
climb so that by daybreak it had spread 
completely over the lowlands, while the 
heavy clouds continued their downj^our. 

Noon came, the creek continued to rise 
and there was no sign that the rain would 
cease in time for the channels to empty 
themselves before night, so the party de- 
cided to take refuge in the home which, 
the night before, they thought was burn- 
ing. They were given a hearty welcome 
by Mr. "Walters and his family, all of 
whom laughed heartily when they learned 
how their friends happened to be in their 
present predicament. 



TWO PRAYERS JUST ALIKE 247 

*'If I'd known the burning of those old 
hollow trees was going to get my neigh- 
bors into all of this trouble," said Mr. 
Walters, "I would have left them for the 
weasels and foxes." 

''Austin," said Abe, when the two were 
preparing for bed in the little loft over 
the Walters' kitchen, "do you ever say 
your prayers ? ' ' 

"Sometimes I do and sometimes I 
don't," answered Austin, yawning. "Do 
you say yours ? ' ' 

"Yes, every night." 

"Well, I guess I would, too, if I knew 
what to say. What do you say, Abe?" 

" 1 11 tell you mine, and you can remem- 
ber and say it; then God will be getting 
two prayers just alike. I just say : 

"God help mother, help father, help 
sister, help everybody; teach me to read 
and write, and watch over Honey and 
make him a good dog; and keep us all 
from getting lost in the wilderness. 
Amen ! ' ' 



CHAPTER XXXI 

TELL THE TRUTH 

" Austin/' said Abe, *'I'll be mighty 
glad when I can have my own big ax. 
This would be a good place right here to 
put up a schoolhouse. Don't you reckon 
we could clean it up, and help the men to 
build a schoolhouse?" 

*'I don't know, Abe. And if we had a 
schoolhouse, who would teach school?" 

*'You remember Mrs. Hodgen always 
said we ought to have the cage ready be- 
fore we catch the bird, and I believe we 
should have the schoolhouse built before 
we try to get a teacher. If Mrs. Hodgen 
keeps on teaching me and I keep on learn- 
ing I could teach a little myself." 

Austin laughed at this and teased a 
little. 

248 



TELL THE TEUTH 249 

''That's all right," retorted Abe, ''I 
could teach you some things now. I can 
spell a lot of words, and can count up to a 
hundred. I wish you would try to learn 
something about reading and writing and 
spelling and figuring." 

"Don't want to learn," Austin replied, 
''because it wouldn't do me any good. I 
don't expect to be a preacher or a teacher, 
and what good would it do for me to learn 
things like that?" 

"Some of these times," answered Abe, 
"you might want to sell a cow or a pig, 
and you couldn't count your money; or 
you might want to write something on a 
tree, and you couldn't do that either. If 
you would let me teach you what I know 
now, by the time you learned that I'd 
know more; so, you see, there would al- 
ways be something I could teach you." 

They were building a new ridge-road to 
Elizabethtown. The settlers of that sec- 
tion were working toward Hodgen's Mill, 
and those of Hodgen Mill were working 



250 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

toward Elizabethtown, each crew hoping 
to meet the other half-way between the 
two places before bad weather set in. 

Abe and Austin kept the road-build- 
ers in their vicinity supplied with water 
from the hill spring. Each carried a cedar 
bucket and gourd, and were required to 
pass the water frequently as the heat was 
intense. Whenever they found opportu- 
nity, the boys would take an extra ax and 
slash at one of the smaller trees. 

("Abe was a natural-born chopper," 
said Mr. Gollaher, "and I must admit he 
could beat me at that kind of work, al- 
though he was a good deal younger than I. 
But he was larger, — he was the biggest 
boy in Kentucky for his age — biggest in 
body and mind.") 

"Come here quick I" Austin called to 
Abe, "I've cut my foot, and I've cut it 
mighty bad, too." 

Austin was panic-stricken, but Abe said 
very quietly: "It ain't cut half as bad as 
mine was the day the snake bit you. Take 



TELL THE TRUTH 251 

that moccasin off and we'll fix it. We'll 
go to the spring, wash the blood off and 
wrap your foot up in a piece of your 
shirt-tail." 

*'I don't want mother to find out about 
this," Austin said, after Abe had fastened 
the bandage. **I don't believe I'll limp 
when I get home, and then she won't ever 
know anything about it." 

"Yes, she will," said Abe. "because 
part of your shirt-tail is gone." 

"That's so," Austin admitted. "Well, 
I'll tell her Honey grabbed me and tore it 
with his teeth." 

"No, sir-ee, you won't I" said Abe em- 
phatically. "You can't ^ story' on Honey. 
You'll just have to tell your mother the 
truth. She won't whip you; she never 
does. What are you afraid of ■? " 

"Well, I'll tell you, Abe, I've been 
bragging about being a good chopper, and 
I don't want them to laugh at me." 

"But you must tell the truth about that 
shirt-tail. Your mother won't be mad 



252 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

when she knows you might have bled to 
death if we hadn't tied up your foot right 
away." 

"Mother's going to be mad," insisted 
Austin, "because just the other day she 
said she believed I'd have to have another 
shirt before spring, and she told father 
he must try to get some goods next time 
he went to Elizabethtown or Bardstown." 

"I'll tell you what your mother can 
do," suggested Abe. "She can make a 
new tail to your shirt out of the hide of 
the wildcat you killed the day we were 
fishing." 

That suited Austin, and he wrapped his 
moccasin about the injured foot and hur- 
ried to the spring to get another bucket 
of water for the roadbuilders. 

Abe patted Honey's head and said: 
"No, Honey, I won't let Austin or any- 
body fib on you. " Then the boys, answer- 
ing the call for "more water," climbed 
again to the top of the hill. 

"Austin, they say there's a big book 



TELL THE TRUTH 253 

somewhere that tells all about wrapping 
up cuts and sores, and about giving medi- 
cine made of herbs to sick people. If we 
had that book and could read it, we could 
learn a lot about such things, and would 
know what to do the next time we get 
hurt. And that's one reason you ought to 
learn to read," concluded Abe. 



CHAPTER XXXII 

THE RIGHT TO FIGHT 

Corn-shucking and house-raising par- 
ties would not be popular to-day unless 
each "guest" was well paid for being 
present. But in Kentucky one hundred 
years ago, such invitations were accepted 
with pleasure. The women, as well as the 
men, attended these corn-shuckings, and 
after the work was done, fiddles were 
brought forth and the dancing began. 
"Matches" were made between the boys 
and girls, and there used to be a saying 
that the girl who couldn't find a husband 
at a corn-shucking social wasn't worth 
shucks — that if she couldn't go from the 
shucks to the dance, and from the dance 
to the marriage altar within a month, she 
would be an old maid. 
254 



THE BIGHT TO FIGHT 255 

When a pioneer wished to build a new 
house, or an addition to his old one, he 
usually spent several weeks in felling and 
hauling logs. Then, allowing a few days 
for mishaps and delays, he sent word to 
his neighbors that upon a certain day he 
would give a house-raising party. At the 
appointed time the good friends would be 
on hand. 

They were building a cabin for a newly- 
married couple who had recently removed 
from Virginia and bought some land 
from Thomas Gollaher's father — ^Aus- 
tin's grandfather. Abe and Austin were 
allowed to go to the party, that they might 
have some primary training in the busi- 
ness of house-raising. During the day a 
fight occurred between two of the men, 
following a stormy dispute over the date 
of a certain battle in the Revolutionary 
War. Abraham watched the struggle 
with little apparent concern, as he sat 
upon a log, his chin resting in his hands. 
When asked by an old man if he was not 



256 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

afraid the men would hurt each other, he 
very indifferently said he wasn't. 

*'And why?" asked the old man. 

** Because," answered Abe, *'they have 
no business fighting. If they had waited 
until they got home their wives could have 
settled the question; the women keep 
dates of such things set down in wilting, 
and besides, there wasn't any need to 
fight about the big war which was over so 
long ago. I wouldn't have cared very 
much if they had bloodied each other's 
noses. ' ' 

Now, Abraham was no doubt mistaken 
as to the women having "set down in writ- 
ing" the dates of battles of the Revolu- 
tion, but the women-folk of the back- 
woods were the historians, and they kept 
rather complete diaries, recording events 
as told by the people or obtained from 
borrowed papers and books. These dia- 
ries were current, also. Deaths, mar- 
riages, births and many other important 
events were recorded, and * 'mother's book 



THE RIGHT TO FIGHT 257 

of things, '^ as it was called, was often re- 
ferred to in settling disputes. 

Abraham had no patience with men or 
boys who tried to settle their differences 
by personal encounters. He did not think 
that *'fist-and-skuH" fighting, as they 
called it, should be resorted to, unless one 
had to ^'hit" to keep from being *'hit." 

^'Austin, let me tell you something," he 
said after the men had been separated, 
* 'there is no use in fighting over dis — dis 
— (what do you call it?) dis — ^putes. 
There's always somebody who can tell 
which one is right and which one is 
wrong. All they have to do is to wait a 
little while until they can find a book, or 
get Missus Sarah to tell them." 

*'But just suppose, Abe, somebody 
calls you a bad name ; then what are you 
going to do about it?" 

*' Just let him alone ; if you hate the boy 
it's best not to hit him." 

* ' Why ? ' ' asked Austin. 

*' Because if you don't he'll go from bad 



258 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

to worse, and will finally be whipped at 
the public whipping post ; but if you gave 
him a good pounding it might cure him," 
was Abe's characteristic reply. "Do you 
know, Austin, what the public whipping 
post is? It's a post where they tie bad 
men and thieves and whip them where ev- 
erybody can see the whipping; and they 
say after a man is whipped at the public 
whipping post he has to leave the coun- 
try, for from that time on everybody will 
make fun of him." 

"Who whips him?" asked Austin. 

"The law — the law gives some man the 
right. 

"I don't believe in fighting if it can be 
helped," Abe went on. "You remember 
the day father hit old Mr. Rolling Stone ; 
well, father had to hit him because he was 
fixing to cut father with a knife. I'd 
have fought old Mr. Rolling Stone myself 
that day he wanted to take Honey away 
from me; I'd have fought him and 
whipped him, and I'd have had the right 



THE RIGHT TO FIGHT 259 

to do it. You have a right to fight to 
keejD what belongs to yon, and to make 
people give np what doesn't belong to 
them; but I think it's mighty wrong to 
fight over little disputes. 

*'I'm glad they let us come over here to- 
day," said Abe on the way home that 
evening; "I've learned a lot more about 
getting the logs notched for putting them 
together, and I can help with that church 
and schoolhouse they are talking about 
building over here on Knob Creek." 

"And I'm glad, too," said Austin, "be- 
cause I 've been wanting to see a fight for 
a long time." 



CHAPTER XXXIII 



ABE^S DREAM 



The women-folk who lived near Knob 
Creek met there twice each month during 
the spring, summer and fall to do the 
neighborhood washing. A slanting rock 
was used for a wash-board ; limbs of trees 
were stripped of their bark and the cloth- 
ing spread over them to dry. The women- 
folk gossiped and on one occasion even 
told their dreams. 

"Don't tell your bad dreams before 
breakfast," advised Joel Walters' eldest 
daughter. "You know I dreamed Aunt 
Mary Kastor was dead, told it before 
breakfast, and within a week we buried 
her. I wouldn't tell another bad dream 
before breakfast for anything." 

Mrs. Keith (Jonathan Keith had now 
260 



r 



ABE'S DREAM 261 

married a Miss Brownfield, and had 
built a cabin so close to the Lincolns' 
that they could talk from one to the oth- 
er) related a dream of a man drowning in 
the Rolling Fork River, and said: "I 
woke Jonathan in the night and told him 
of the dream. And just three weeks af- 
ter that they found a man's body, all cov- 
ered with mud, on the bank of the river." 
Mrs. Gollaher then told in detail a 
dream that had greatly impressed her. 
She had dreamed that gold had been 
found by the wagon-load back in the hills, 
and people were rushing there from ev- 
erywhere with picks and shovels, and that 
heaps of the yellow ore was being hauled 
by her house every day. The dream was 
so real she believed there might be gold 
in the hills, and sometimes she wanted to 
go see for herself. She said that in her 
dream President James Madison had 
come from Washington City and was 
overseeing the work of getting gold out 
of the hills ; he said he was going to use it 



262 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

to pay for building roads from one end of 
the country to the other. **Then," she 
added laughingly, **I was awakened by a 
loud clap of thunder." 

Abe, listening with wide-eyed interest, 
asked Mrs. Gollaher if she believed there 
was anything in dreams. 

"Yes," she replied, "but you and Aus- 
tin mustn't look for gold in that hill, be- 
cause you might get lost. ' ' 

"I don't want any gold," answered 
Abraham. "The reason I asked you if you 
believe dreams come true, was because I 
once had a dream which I have been 
thinking about a heap." 

"Then," said Mrs. Gollaher, "we want 
to hear your dream. What was it 
about?" 

"Was it about your sweetheart?" 
asked Mrs. Keith. 

"No, ma'am; I haven't got any sweet- 
heart. I did have one, but she said my 
feet and hands were too big, and my legs 



ABE'S DREAM 263 

and arms too long, and that she liked the 
Evans boy better than she did me ; so 
Susie — Susie Enlow don't like me any 
more." 

''Too bad, Abe," said another woman; 
*'but we want to hear about your dream. 
What was it r' 

"Well," said Abe, "my dream was 
about making a speech to a lot of people 
in a big town, and " 

Here the boy was interrupted by a 
frightened scream from one of the chil- 
dren and the general commotion that fol- 
lowed. A large water snake had wrapped 
itself about the little girl's leg. Austin, 
the snake-charmer, tried his wiles, but the 
reptile wouldn't charm, so he seized it by 
the head and beat it to death upon the 
rocks. 

When the excitement was over they 
tried to get Abe to finish his dream, but 
he just shook his head and said: "There 
wasn't much more to it." 



264 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

*'Do you ever expect to make a speech 
to a lot of people in a big town 9" asked 
Mrs. Gollaher with a smile. 

"I don't know, I might," Abraham 
replied. 



CHAPTER XXXIV 

OFF THE sheep's BACK 

*' Abraham, do you see how heavy the 
wool is on those sheep over there?" asked 
Mrs. Hodgen, as the two were strolling 
through a grove on the Hodgen farm. 

"Yes, ma'am, the white sheep look like 
big snowballs and the black sheep look 
like burnt backlogs." 

"Well," continued Mrs. Hodgen, "I'm 
going to make you and Mr. John each a 
suit of clothes out of that wool, and knit 
you some socks, to keep you warm next 
winter." 

"It will take almost as much wool to 
make a suit for me as for Mr. John," said 
Abraham. "Just look how long my arms 
and legs are. They are growing twice as 
fast as Austin's. If I keep on growing 
265 



266 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

taller, I'm afraid I'll have to live out-of- 
doors. Father said the other day that by 
the time I was fifteen he'd have to cut a 
hole in the roof for my head to stick 
through — when I was sitting down." 

"You mustn't let people tease you about 
your long legs and arms, Abraham. 
Don't you know if your arms are longer 
than those of other men you'll be able to 
reach farther ? 

"Suppose a fairy should hang a bag of 
gold high in a tree, and would say to the 
boys of your age around here, 'The first 
boy who reaches the bag of gold, without 
tiptoeing or jumping, may have it.' 
Don't you know you would get it? And 
maybe God gave you long legs so you 
could travel faster toward success when 
you are older. 

"You must stop worrying and feel that 
you were made that way so you could 
reach big things with your hands and step 
over perplexing things with your feet. 
Anyhow," she continued, "we'll make 



OFF THE SHEEP'S BACK 267 

those two suits of clothes. You must ask 
your mother to let jou spend a week with 
me so we can shear the sheep and get the 
wool ready to spin.'' 

It was fun for Abraham and he worked 
faithfully with Mrs. Hodgen until the 
new suits were made. The breeches 
turned out to be three or four inches too 
long, but when Mrs. Hodgen insisted on 
cutting them off, he said: *'No, they'll 
be just right next month." 

''Where did you get your new suit, 
Abe ? ' ' asked a boy at the mill a few days 
later. 

''Mrs. Hodgen cut it off the sheep's 
back and gave it to me, ' ' he answered. 

"Yes," said Mr. Hodgen, "mother gave 
Abe that suit and Abe gave me this one." 

"No, sir," Abe quickly corrected, "Mis- 
sus Sarah gave it to you." 

"Didn't you help Missus Sarah shear 
the sheep, spin the wool and weave the 
cloth?" 

"Yes, sir." 



268 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

''Well, don't you think your services 
are worth the suit you received*?" 

"A boy would have to work a whole 
year for a suit like that/' replied Abe. 

''You must learn to charge what your 
services are worth," Mr. Hodgen insisted. 
"Some men would work you a lifetime, if 
you would allow it, and wouldn't give you 
a pair of socks. I say you earned your 
suit of clothes." 

Abraham made no a n s w e r — j u s t 
grinned. But later in the day he said to 
Mr. Hodgen, "I reckon you're right about 
some people letting you work a lifetime 
and not giving you anything for it, if you 
didn't make them. You know that old 
man who works for Mr. Evans ? Well, I 
asked him one day, when he was looking 
so hungry, if Mr. Evans gave him three 
meals a day. He said, 'Yes, when I work 
all day he gives me three meals, but when 
it rains and I can't work, he won't even 
give me my supper.' " 



CHAPTER XXXV 

THE HUMAN" TREE 

A DEAD tree upon the summit of a high 
hill is often so shaped by the storms of 
years that, with the aid of imagination, it 
may come to resemble a huge human 
form ; and its shadow against the sky of- 
ten fills the superstitious with awe. 

There were a few people in the Knob 
Creek section who believed the signs they 
read in the dead trees on the hills. To 
their distorted fancies the limbs of such a 
tree might point in one direction to-day, 
and in another the next. If one limb 
pointed south, that meant in winter that 
the weather was to be mild ; if in summer 
the heat was to be excessive. It was an ill 
omen if a limb pointed skyward. It 
meant there was to be a death in the com- 
269 



270 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

inimity, and the people who believed in 
these ]3redictions began to give more at- 
tention to their prayers and their church 
duties. 

Thomas Lincoln was not without his 
superstitions. It is related that once, 
when on his way to visit a neighbor, he 
saw a red bird and a black bird in the 
same tree and that he immediately aban- 
doned his journey and returned to his 
home and his "beautiful Nancy." He 
had been told, and he believed, that the 
two birds — the red and the black — when 
together, foretold dire disaster to the com- 
munity — bloodshed and sorrow. 

Thomas Gollaher used to plague Mr. 
Lincoln about his red-bird, black-bird 
sign, but he quit when Mr. Lincoln dis- 
covered that Mr. Gollaher would go two 
miles out of his way to keep from meeting 
a white mule before noon on Friday. 

Some five miles from the Lincoln and 
Gollaher homes, on the tallest peak of 
AEuldraugh Hill, stood the huge white 



THE HUMAN TREE 271 

trunk of a dead tree. Every limb except 
two large ones, and every bit of bark had 
been stripped from the tree by Old Fa- 
ther Time, and it stood like a ragged sen- 
tinel keeping watch over the valleys for 
miles around. The two remaining limbs 
resembled nothing so much as big, brawny 
arms, while an immense knot looked not 
unlike a human head. This ghost of the 
woods could be plainly seen from the sur- 
rounding hills, and there were more than 
a few people had faith in its warnings and 
belief in its predictions. The more sim- 
ple-minded would climb the hill to com- 
mune with the old white trunk whose 
spirit had passed on and to bring home 
with them tales which opened wide the 
children's eyes and sent them creeping 
fearfully to bed. 

''It is said," related Mr. Gollaher, 
''that on one occasion old man Pottinger 
came home quivering with excitement and 
announced that the tree was smoking a 
pipe, a great stream of fire coming from 



272 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN" 

its mouth, and that its head was as high 
as the clouds. He believed the end of the 
world had come, and begged that the 
neighborhood be notified, so that every 
one might pray before the final collapse. 
He was a maniac," said Mr. Gollaher, 
*'and they had to tie him to his bed and 
keep him there until he died. Another 
fellow had such faith in the tree that he 
obeyed its * orders' under all circum- 
stances. Whenever he thought one of the 
arms pointed north, he was sure that win- 
ter would soon set in ; on one occasion he 
even gathered his perishable vegetables in 
July, fearing a frost would come." 

"Abe," said Austin, ''let's climb up the 
hill and look for the human tree. I don't 
believe it's there," Austin went on, when 
Abe had consented to go. "I reckon since 
old man Pottinger went crazy God has 
blown it down." 

"It's too cloudy," suggested Abe. "The 
tree is still there, and we can see it as soon 
as the sun comes out. There it is now, 



THE HUMAN TREE 273 

with its arms pointing over that way, and 
over that way (one to the east, the other 
to the west), just like it pointed the last 
time we saw it." 

"Do you believe in it?" Austin asked. 

Abe was looking down into the valley 
below them and said: *'Mr. Keith has six 
sheep down there, Austin, and they're get- 
ting big and fat." Then to Austin's ques- 
tion he answered very emphatically, 
''No." 

"Look at its arm pointing over the hill ; 
that ain't the way it pointed the last time 
we saw it!" exclaimed Austin, much ex- 
cited. "I believe that arm is pointing to 
a hill that's got gold in it — the gold 
mother dreamed of and told us about that 
day down on Knob Creek. What do you 
say to going over there some time to hunt 
for it ? What color is gold, Abe I ' ' 

"Yellow." 

"It's red or yellow, I don't know which. 
Will you go with me some time?" 

"Somebody would have to go with you 



274 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 

because you don't knoAV what gold looks 
like. Why don't you get Mr. Hodgen to 
show you some of it? He has plenty." 

*' Let's go to-morrow," pleaded Austin. 

**I won't go at all," said Abe with a 
tone of finality; "I don't want any gold." 

''You're afraid," accused Austin. 

"No, I am not," Abe answered quietly; 
"but I don't want gold. What could I do 
with it ? " he asked in all seriousness. 

"I'll tell you one thing you could do 
with it," suggested Austin. "You could 
send to Bardstown and buy that book 
you've been wanting so long. What's the 
name of it?" 

'^R. Crusoe/' answered Abe. "I will 
get that anyhow, pretty soon. Mrs. Hod- 
gen is going to have it brought to me the 
next time any of the men take a flat boat 
of hides to Louisville." 

"I want you to read part of it to me, 
Abe, when you've learned to read it." 

"Why don't you want to hear all of 
it?" 




Austin Gollaher, Lincoln's boyhood friend and playmate 



i 



THE HUMAN TREE 275 

*'I just wanted to find out why Mr. 
Crusoe didn't name Friday 'Saturday'!" 
Austin answered, grinning. 

After a moment's silence: "There 
might be a bear over there," said Abe 
meditatively. 

"See!" replied Austin quickly, "I 
knew you were afraid." 

"I'll go with you if our mothers will let 
us," and as he spoke Abe turned to the 
path leading home. 

"Why, Abe, you know they won't let 
us go. We'll have to slip off if we go at 
all." 

"I won't do that. It's too far to go 
without telling them where we are going. 
If they said we could go, and we got lost, 
they would know about where to look for 
us. Anyhow, there's no gold over there, 
Austin, and if you keep on believing in 
that old tree, they'll have to tie you to 
your bed when you get old just like they 
did old Mr. Pottinger. I don't believe in 
that tree at all," Abe continued. "If I 



276 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

wanted to believe in a tree I'd choose a big 
live one with leaves on it. I might see 
something in that to help me know 
whether it's going to be hot or cold, or 
whether it will rain or snow. But a dead 
tree can't tell you anything." 

"A few days after this conversation," 
said Mr. Gollaher in relating the story, 
*'some one in our neighborhood reported 
that the body of a man, badly mutilated, 
had been found at the foot of the very hill 
that I wanted Abe to visit with me. At 
first it was thought that the man had been 
attacked by a hungry bear, but it devel- 
oped later that he had been shot through 
the head, perhaps by his own gun, and his 
body mutilated by small animals. That 
was the last time I ever asked Abe to 
search for gold. 

*'Abe didn't care for money," con- 
tinued Mr. Gollaher. *'He'd have given 
the whole hill of it for that book, R. 
Crusoe/' 




One of the old trails over which Abe and yVustin canicd their 
corn to Hodgen's Mill 



CHAPTER XXXVI 

WHERE IS INDIAN" ANNER 

Abe arose from the split log bench in 
front of the Hodgen home. "Let's go in 
the house a minute, I want to ask Missus 
Sarah something." 

"She's busy putting up berries," ob- 
jected Austin, "and we oughtn't to bother 
her now." 

Abe paid no attention to this, but, look- 
ing very solemn, walked leisurely up the 
narrow path to the house, Austin 
following. 

"For goodness' sake, Abe," Austin ex- 
claimed, "don't you ever get tired of feel- 
ing bad?" 

Abe made no reply. 

"Here, boys," said Mrs. Hodgen, "is 

277 



278 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

some bread and jam I was just fixing for 
you. ' ' 

*' Missus Sarah,'' asked Abe presently, 
wiping the jam from his mouth, *' where 
is Indian Anner ? ' ' 

*'I don't know, Abe, I never heard of it. 
Why do you ask?" 

*' Because father keeps talking about 
going there to live, and mother don't want 
to go and neither do I." 

*'0h!" said Mrs. Hodgen, laughing 
heartily, *'you mean Indiana. Well, In- 
diana is several miles from here. You 
have to cross a big river called the Ohio 
before you get there. That river sepa- 
rates Indiana from Kentucky just like 
the Rolling Fork separates this county 
from Nelson County." 

*'The Ohio— the Ohio River," Abe re- 
peated. *' Wasn't it close to that river 
that father's father was killed by the 
Indians?" 

**Yes, your grandfather, Abraham Lin- 
coln, was killed there, and your uncle, 



f 



WHERE IS INDIAN ANNER 279 

only a little boy, shot and killed an Indian 
just as he was ready to strike your father 
with a tomahawk. ' ' 

''Abraham Lincoln," said Abe medita- 
tively, * ' I was named for him and for Mr. 
Abraham Enlow, too. I'm named for two 
men; maybe that's what makes my name 
harder to spell than Austin's," he said 
dryly. *'I don't want to go, Mrs. Hod- 
gen, but if father makes mother go, I'll 
have to go, too. We've got everything 
cleaned up around here, and now we'll 
have to clean up over there. We've got 
our schoolhouse done and the church 
nearly finished, and what more do we 
want? But father says big game is get- 
ting scarce around here, and I reckon he 
thinks there's more of it across the Ohio 
River. I wish he'd go in partners with 
Mr. Gollaher raising corn, and stay 
here." 

** Don't you remember what the 
preacher said, Abraham, that everything 
is for the best I" asked Mrs. Hodgen. 



280 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

"Yes, ma'am. Parson Gentry said that 
over in the Church of Maple Trees, but I 
would have to study over that a long time 
before I could believe it; it sounds 
mighty funny to me," and the boy shook 
his head. 

** Let's go look for that coon Mr. Hod- 
gen was telling us about, ' ' said Austin. 

**We'd better get our meal and go 
home; it's too late now, and anyway I'm 
not going to let Honey kill a coon," said 
Abe in that tone of finality which Austin 
understood so well. "I'm feeling funny 
down where my heart is, and I want to 
swing in Sarah's swing and see if I can't 
blow some of this lump out of my throat." 

The two lads trudged silently along the 
narrow road for some distance, then Abe 
began : 

"You know, Austin, if we go to that 
place across the big river, I'll never get 
back. It's hard to get across Knob Creek 
sometimes, and I know I could never cross 
that big river ; so when I tell you good-by 



WHERE IS INDIAN ANNER 281 

I reckon I'll never see you again. I'll 
give you the crow and the coon, and maybe 
I'll give you the goat. But I'm going to 
take Honey. Now, Austin," and Abe 
spoke very slowly, "you tell your father 
to tell mine that if he'll stay here, your 
father will help him with his crops every 
year ; and when I get bigger I'll helj) your 
father do anything he wants done. ' ' 

Austin agreed to do this, but added: 
"You know your father never thinks 
about crops. Maybe if father would tell 
him he'd go partners and set a lot more 
traps, he'd be more willing to stay." 

"No, don't do that; father has enough 
traps. I'd rather he would raise more 
corn. 

"Austin, I'm learning to write a little 
bit, and if we go to Indiana I '11 write you 
a letter and tell you about things over 
there. I'll give it to somebody passing 
and ask him to give it to somebody else 
and some time you would come across the 
man that had the letter and he would give 



282 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

it to you. I wish you would learn to read 
and write. You know how I learned, 
don't you?" 

*'Yes," Austin replied. 

"Let's drive some stobs in the ground 
and tie a hen, a cat and a dog to them, and 
I'll teach you just like Mrs. Hodgen 
taught me." 

Austin agreed, and the next day Abe 
opened school, but it was slow work be- 
cause Austin couldn't fix his mind upon 
his studies. 

"Abe was very patient," said Mr. Gol- 
laher, "though he got mad two or three 
times, and I said, *Abe, you are mad at 
me.' He apologized by saying he had 
been told that school-teachers had to pre- 
tend they were mad sometimes to make 
the children learn, and he was just acting 
that way to see if I 'd pay more attention. 

"After a time I did learn to spell hen, 
cat and dog, and could write these words 
pretty well. Abe seemed very happy over 
my progress, and said, with as much en- 



WHERE IS INDIAN ANNER 283 

thusiasm as he ever displayed, *Now, 
Austin, if we do go to Indi — Indiana, I '11 
write to you about a cat, a dog and a hen, 
and I know you can read that much of my 
letter." 



CHAPTER XXXVII 

A FIGHT AND A STRANGER 

**Abe had his likes and dislikes," said 
Mr. Gollaher, ''and while always sympa- 
thetic and loving, he was not what might 
be called a 'goody-goody' boy. He never 
cringed though he often cried, and met 
every situation with a heart as strong as 
God ever put in human breast. He was 
a man through and through. 

"Abe's resentments were mild, but pos- 
itive. I have often seen him, in the most 
unconcerned way, make older boys 'show 
the white feather.' Once, at a picnic, a 
young man spoke rudely to my mother be- 
cause she reproved him for grabbing a lot 
of fried chicken from a tin pan. Abe took 
up the matter : 

" 'You mustn't talk that way to Mrs. 
284 



A FIGHT AND A STRANGER 285 

Gollaher; she's too good to everybody to 
have a big buck like you talk mean to her.' 

" 'What are you going to do about it?' 
asked the young man. 

" 'Well,' said Abe, 'I haven't made up 
my mind what I'll do about it, but there 
are a good many things I could do, and I'll 
just show you one of them.' 

"With that he jumped up like a kanga- 
roo and wound his long arms about the 
boy's neck, his long legs around his body, 
and they rolled to the ground. 

" 'Don't do that, boys,' cried mother. 

" 'We are not fighting,' said the young 
man who had 'sassed' mother, 'are we, 
Aber 

" *No, sir,' answered Abe, 'it's just a 
little friendly contest like Mr. John Hod- 
gen holds down at the mill sometimes be- 
tween boys, just to see which is the best 
man.' 

"Both boys were now on their feet, and 
Abe said: 'I think you ought to tell Mrs. 
Gollaher you are sorry. ' 



286 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

"The young fellow at once stepped up 
to mother and said: 'Mrs. Gollaher, I 
acted mighty bad and I 'm sorry. ' 

''Well, sir, that did mother lots of good 
and made her think even more of Abe 
than ever. She told Mrs. Lincoln about it 
that evening, and kissed Abe on the fore- 
head and said she believed she thought as 
much of him as she did of her own 
children. 

' ' Then I said : 'Mother, you tell me not 
to fight, and you are kissing Abe because 
he did fight.' 

" 'No,' said mother, 'Abe wasn't fight- 
ing, and besides he had a right to make 
the boy behave. Abe never picks a quar- 
rel — he tries to stay out of them. If we 
were to encourage you, Austin, you 
would be fighting all of the time.' " 

One day on the way to Knob Creek 
school, of which Abe was so proud, and of 
which he often told his friends after he 
became president, he was accosted by a 
man who said he wanted to buy Honey. 



A FIGHT AND A STRANGER 287 

Abe wouldn't listen to such a tiling and 
told the man positively Honey wasn't for 
sale, at any price. Something about the 
stranger was not pleasing to Abe. His 
face was ugly and hard, and Abe told Aus- 
tin the man reminded him of the rotten 
trunk of a small tree down on Kaob 
Creek. 

*'The stranger had a crippled hand," 
said Mr. Gollaher, ^^only one finger, and 
the arm was twisted and bent. The man 
inquired about the cattle and sheep, es- 
pecially the sheep in the community ; said 
he was selling a remedy that would make 
the wool on a sheep grow twice as fast, 
and that would make a cow give twice as 
much milk. When Abe returned home 
that evening he told his mother of meet- 
ing the stranger and added that he didn't 
like the man's face, and thought the peo- 
ple had better be on the lookout, for he 
might be crazy and poison a lot of sheep 
and cows. 

**Four or five days later John Hodgen 



288 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

found the carcasses of three of his best 
sheep way over there in the woods, two 
miles from home. They had been skinned 
and the skins taken ; no doubt slaughtered 
for the skins. The same thing happened 
a few days later to several of Mr. Pottin- 
ger's sheep, over in Nelson County. 

' ' Of course, there was much excitement, 
and the whole neighborhood was aroused. 
Mv. Pottinger found a trail of blood lead- 
ing through a dense woods, and followed 
it until it was lost, but still kept up the 
hunt for the culprit, remaining in the 
woods two days and two nights. On the 
third night he came upon two men skin- 
ning a big sheep belonging to my grand- 
father. Mr. Pottinger didn't try to arrest 
the men, but raised his rifle and shot the 
largest one through the breast. The 
smaller man escaped. Everybody in the 
neighborhood went to my grandfather's 
farm the next day to view the remains of 
the culprit. As soon as Abe saw the man's 
crippled arm and hand he said: 'Honey 



A FIGHT AND A STRANGER 289 

was right; his hair wouldn't have bristled 
and he wouldn't have growled so if he 
hadn't known that was a bad man. 

" 'What do you think about Mr. Pot- 
tinger killing the msinV I asked excit- 
edly. *I'm glad of it, because he might 
have killed some of us. ' 

" *Well,' said Abe, *I don't care much 
myself. I'm just sorry that the man was 
a thief. I reckon he's better off, and I 
know the people around here are. I hoj)e 
he didn't have any little children who are 
looking for him to come home.' 

*' Indeed, Abraham Lincoln, the child, 
had much of the human in him," contin- 
ued Mr. Gollaher. "AVhen he stood there 
looking down upon the body of the 
stranger he was perhaps the coolest one 
in the crowd. He knew the man should 
have been killed. The slaughter of the 
sheep just for their hides was enough for 
Abe. He had no sympathy to waste — he 
was just sorry the man was a thief. 
That was all." 



CHAPTER XXXVIII 

FOR THE BEST 

The children of the frontiersman who 
lived in the little cabins on the hills or the 
larger ones in the valleys, were happy 
youngsters, because they were so close to 
the world as God made it; wearing coats 
of buckskin, moccasins of calfskin and 
caps of coonskins, they faced joyously the 
winter's cold, breathing the purity of 
frozen fields and woods ; and in summer, 
in flimsy aprons or long-tailed shirts, 
they sought the beauties of the silent 
hills; they loved the music of the moun- 
tain stream, the singing of the birds, and 
the whisper of the wind among the trees. 
They knew little of the world beyond, and 
were happy in the velvet gloom of the 
forest. 

290 



FOR THE BEST 291 

"Abraham," said Mrs. Lincoln one 
morning, *'we are going to Mr. Hodgen's 
grove to-morrow to hear the Bible read, 
and I want you and Austin to listen 
closely. And you must fix up and try to 
keep clean. Many children will be there 
and I want their mothers to point to you 
as good examples for their boys." 

The great host of people, gathered in 
the grove, spread a feast under the trees 
at noon, and everybody was enjoying it 
until Austin got a fish-bone in his throat. 
*' There was considerable excitement," 
said Mr. Gollaher, "until Mr. Enlow ran 
his big fingers down my throat and pulled 
the bone out." 

A little son of Joel Walters was there 
with a goat hitched to a cart. Abe and 
Austin were greatly interested, though 
they listened strictly to the reading. But 
as soon as the benediction was pro- 
nounced they turned their attention to the 
outfit. 

John Hodgen watched the boys for a 



292 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

moment, smiling, and then called them 
over to his workshop and presented Abe 
with a cart. **I just finished it to-day," 
he said, ''and I have given it to you, Abe, 
because you have the goat; but you un- 
derstand that Austin is to use it when- 
ever he wants to. You are partners in 
nearly everything, and I want you to be 
partners in this, too.'^ 

''Austin can have the goat and cart any 
time he wants them," assured Abe, "and 
we will always play with them together, 
because I don't want to drive the goat un- 
less Austin is with me. ' ' 

"And that's not all; go tell Missus Sa- 
rah to come here. ' ' When she came, smil- 
ing, Mr. Hodgen said: "Mother, where 's 
that set of harness you made for Abe's 
bilty-goat?" 

"Well, our joy was complete, never 
were boys happier and I was just as inter- 
ested in that cart and harness as if they 
were mine," said Mr. Gollaher, "because 
I knew Abe would always divide up with 



FOR THE BEST 293 

me. They were wonderful presents," he 
continued; *Hhe backwoods boy's highest 
ambition was to own such a team." 

**I wonder what Mr. and Mrs. Hodgen 
are talking about," said Austin; ''they've 
been over there ever since they gave you 
the harness and cart. See, they are mo- 
tioning to us ; " and both boys started off 
at a trot. 

''Austin," began Mr. Hodgen, "next 
spring I want you to help me at the mill ; 
I have talked to your father and he is will- 
ing. Of course I'll pay you for your 
work." 

Abe's head dropped, and he turned to 
leave. Then Missus Sarah threw her 
arms about him and pulled his big sad 
face up close to her own. 

"Now, my boy, I want to talk to you. I 
want to tell you something, and I don't 
want you to be heartbroken; I want you 
to be the big, wonderful manly boy that 
you always are. You won't be with us 
next spring, or you know Mr. John would 



294 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

have given you a place in his mill, too. 
Mr. John told Austin about the place 
while you were here because he knew you 
would be glad for Austin. Your father 
has finally decided to move to Indiana be- 
fore winter sets in ; to start about the first 
of November.'' 

The tears were now gushing from Abe's 
eyes, and his sobs were pathetic, but he 
only said: "I don't want to go." 

"Abraham," said the good little wom- 
an, *'I didn't want to tell you to-day, 
but your mother insisted on it. Don't cry 
any more, please, but make up your mind 
the move is for the best, and don't let your 
mother know how bad you feel. You can 
come back to see us some time, and, if you 
are good young men you and Austin can 
take Mr. John's mill and run it." 

Abe promised, but he said: ** Missus 
Sarah, I don't reckon I will ever come 
back." 

And on the way home, the tears still 
glistening in his eyes, he said: "Mother, 



FOR THE BEST 295 

it may be good for all of us in Indiana. 
We may settle close to some school, and 
after I have done my day's work, maybe 
father will let me borrow some books 
from the teacher, and I will read and 
learn something by the pine-knot fire at 
night." 



CHAPTER XXXIX 

THE LAST OF BILLY 

Near the Lincoln and Gollalier houses, 
upon a hill, stood a tall elm, spread like a 
big umbrella. Near its trunk circled the 
ridge-road, winding on to Hodgen's Mill, 
thence to Elizabethtown and on to the 
Ohio River, where some enterprising 
*'Hoosiers" plied a fleet of flat boats for 
those Kentuckians who wanted to cross 
over and continue their journey through 
southern Indiana hills until the trail 
dipped into Avide thoroughfares leading to 
the big cities of the East. 

The old elm tree, when its foliage was 
full, offered shelter to the wayfarers. It 
had become so popular that some thought- 
ful pioneer had placed smooth maple logs 
around its trunk — an inviting seat for 
296 



THE LAST OF BILLY 297 

weary travelers. The tree stood in tlie 
center of the hill, welcoming all who 
passed that way. To the north the hill 
dropped rather suddenly toward Knob 
Creek, to the south it sloped gently to the 
valley. 

Austin thought no better place could 
have been selected to introduce the goat to 
the cart and harness than the top of Elm 
Tree Hill, and against Abe's better judg- 
ment, it was there they made the trial — to 
see just what Billy would do when 
*4iooked up." It took only a few min- 
utes for him to show them what he would 
do. He bowed his neck, tucked his head, 
bellowed a loud protest, and with a high 
leap went over the hill, rolling like a ball 
to Knob Creek below. To the lads on the 
hill it looked like an irreparable accident. 

** Austin," said Abe, "we were not care- 
ful enough. I knew this wasn't the place 
to hitch Billy to the cart. A goat is like a 
mule ; he's just as apt to go one way as the 
other." 



298 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

**Well," said Austin, "I don't believe 
anything was hurt much; look at him 
standing down there with his nose in the 
water." 

"Funny, wasn't it?" remarked Abe, af- 
ter a careful examination of the outfit. 
*' Nothing much hurt, but the next time 
we won't choose the top of a hill. I once 
heard father say he 'd never take a mule to 
the top of a hill, that there was no telling 
when he would take a fool notion to back 
off. Why, it was right up here some- 
where, close to this hill, that Mr. McDou- 
gal's mule backed over a ledge, when the 
family was passing through this part of 
the country, and killed their youngest 
child. Mrs. McDougal was so heartbroken 
she wouldn't go any farther, and that's 
how they happened to locate here. 
Mother remembers all about it, and she 
says God has lots of strange ways of 
changing people's plans. So to-morrow 
we'll try to break Billy in the corn-field." 
But the boys had another mission on 



THE LAST OF BILLY 299 

Elm Tree Hill. They had been directed 
to keep a lookout for a preacher who had 
sent word he was coming to begin the pre- 
liminary work of conducting a camp- 
meeting in the Church of Maple Trees, 
and the boys sought the shelter of the tree 
to keep their vigil. Abe was unusually 
reticent ; his sad eyes were fairly devour- 
ing the hills and valleys as the September 
haze hung low over the tree-tops. 

"I wish that preacher would hurry up 
if he's coming," said Abe impatiently. 
"I don't want to stay up here any longer; 
I'm tired and I feel like there's a big rock 
in my breast. I don't want to go to Indi- 
ana; I don't want to leave you; I don't 
want to leave this Hill and Knob Creek ; 
I don't want to leave Mr. and Mrs. Hod- 
gen, and your mother and father and little 
sister and brother; I want to stay here 
and work in Mr. Hodgen's mill next 
spring. I think about it all the time," 
Abe continued pathetically, **and last 
night I dreamed about it. I dreamed we 



300 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

were there, and we had no water, and we 
were all thirsty, and mother fell sick and 
was begging for water, and I tried to come 
back to the spring there by our house, but 
I couldn't cross the Ohio River ; and when 
I got back home sister told me an angel 
had come and had taken mother to 
Heaven, where they had water upon ev- 
ery hill in dippers of gold. ' ' 

Austin was amazed at Abe 's dream and 
asked: **Why didn't you take your 
mother a drink from the Ohio River?" 

''Because," Abe solemnly answered, 
"the water was muddy, and big ugly cat- 
fish were swimming around in it. Then I 
got wide awake and didn 't go to sleep any 
more, and before the sun was up Honey 
and I went to the spring for a bucket of 
water." 

Abe and Austin watched for the 
preacher imtil twilight; then the two 
heart-sore boys started home to report his 
failure to appear. Billy followed, and 
Austin pulled the cart. 



THE LAST OF BILLY 301 

*' Austin," said Abe, "I don't see why 
Billy couldn't have pulled the cart like 
you are pulling it. ' ' 

"I don't either," said Austin, ''except 
that Billy ain't as old as I am, and goats 
don't have as much sense as people, any- 
how." To which Abe very solemnly re- 
plied that he didn't believe the goat would 
ever be as smart as Austin. 

Bright and early the next morning the 
boys went to the corn-field and after 
many attempts finally got Billy har- 
nessed to the cart and were ready for the 
second test. Billy reared and fell back- 
ward. He butted and bowed and bel- 
lowed, then laid down. 

*'Let him rest a while," suggested Aus- 
tin, ''and when he gets up maybe he'll 
take a notion to go." 

And he did. He went like a whirlwind, 
jumping and butting, Abe holding to one 
line and Austin the other, but giving Billy 
all the freedom he needed. He circled the 
field and tried to climb the rail fence, but 



302 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

the boys pulled liim back. Tliey gave him 
more rein and he scooted away, the boys 
holding him within the limit of their 
speed. At the end of the field, Billy 
stopped suddenly, then plunged high into 
the air and fell to his destruction upon 
the sharp stub of a sapling. 

Both boys were stricken with grief, but 
Abe gathered his wits quickly and said: 
**It couldn't be helloed. Billy did it him- 
self. There is no need to cry, Austin. 
We'll come down here after dinner and 
bury Billy. I tried to be good to him, but 
he never seemed to like me much. You 
can have the cart and harness when I go 
to Indiana, and maybe you'll get a goat 
sometime, and can break him before he 
gets too old to learn. I won't have time 
any more for goats. Father says I am a 
pretty good chopper and will be a great 
help to him in clearing the land." 



CHAPTER XL 

THE END OF PLAYTIME 

The first tinge of frost came with the 
closing days of September — a sign that 
the winter would be late. Thomas Lin- 
coln had never known this sign to fail, and 
he was well pleased, for he hoped to get 
comfortably settled in his Indiana home 
before the severe weather set in. His prep- 
arations were going forward so slowly, 
however, that Mrs. Lincoln was becoming 
much disturbed. The horrors of that 
February blizzard in 180.9 were still fresh 
in her memory and she was afraid a like 
disaster might overtake them if they did 
not reach Indiana before the winter 
began. 

With the exception of gathering a little 
bacon here and grinding a little corn 

303 



304 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

there, Mr. Lincoln had done nothing in 
preparation for the journey. And he 
could do nothing until he procured a horse 
or mule to hitch to the old spring wagon 
he managed to pick up at Elizabethtown. 
That was his chief trouble. He had no 
money and his only chance to get a work 
animal was to swap pelts, corn and to- 
bacco for it. He had tried to make such a 
trade, but in vain, because the settlers who 
owned horses and mules needed them. 

Down at the mill Mr. Lincoln was tell- 
ing his troubles to Mr. Hodgen; but the 
miller was entirely out of sympathy with 
the Indiana project, and had often, and 
heatedly, advised against the move. 

*' Thomas," said Mr. Hodgen, ^'I am 
much interested in you and your family, 
and I want to see them comfortable. 
Now, since I know your mind is finally 
made up, and nothing short of your own 
death could change it, I am going to make 
a proposition to you. You can't make 
that trip with one horse. Your wagon is 



THE END OF PLAYTIME 305 

too heavy. Your family can't walk, so 
you must not start with one animal. Now, 
if you can manage to trade for Jonathan 
Keith's mule, or any other, I will make 
Abraham a present of old Fanny. The 
mare is old but in good condition, and 
would help pull you out of many a mud- 
hole between here and your journey's 
end." 

Mr. Lincoln was most grateful for this 
unexpected kindness, and promised to get 
the mule from Mr. Keith, or one just as 
good. On his way home that afternoon, 
walking with Abe and Austin, he lifted up 
his head and thanked God for the good- 
ness of John Hodgen. 

But Abe said: ''Father, you'd better 
wait until you get the mule, because if you 
don't get it you can't get old Fanny, and 
I've heard Mr. Keith say lots of times he 
wouldn't take anything for that mule." 

** Maybe he won't, but he ought to," re- 
plied Mr. Lincoln, "because if it hadn't 
been for us Jonathan Keith wouldn't be 



306 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

here. He was nearly dead that day we 
found him over on the Rolling Fork 
propped against a tree." 

*'Abe was right," said Mr. Gollaher, 
**Mr. Keith would not hear of such a 
thing. Then Mr. Lincoln began to search 
in earnest and one evening he came home 
leading a horse that was a sight to behold. 
Besides being old and thin, it had a 
twisted foot. Mr. Lincoln had traded a 
few pelts for it. My father declared he 
wouldn't give his oldest coonskin cap for 
the animal, but Mr. Hodgen said he would 
keep his promise on one condition: 
*Feed the horse well for four weeks, then 
I will examine him, and if I feel that it 
will be safe for you to start on the jour- 
ney, I will hand old Fanny over to you, as 
Abe's property.' And Mr. Lincoln ac- 
cepted the condition. He thought of 
nothing now except going to Indiana, and 
spent practically all of his time looking 
after the horse. He rubbed it forty times 
a day and fed it everything he could get 



THE END OF PLAYTIME 307 

it to eat. It was surprising, ' ' laughed Mr. 
Gollaher, ^'liow that old plug felt his oats ; 
he actually tried to rear up one day ; then 
I said, *Abe, you'll be moving pretty 
soon.' My father made one more appeal 
to Mr. Lincoln to wait until spring, but he 
just shook his head and said, *I'm going.' 

^*Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah didn't men- 
tion Indiana when they could avoid it, 
and Abe was as silent as the grave. There 
was gloom in the little cabin, and all of us 
felt mighty sorry for the Lincolns," con- 
cluded Mr. Gollaher. He was silent for a 
moment, then went on : 

**Out there on the bank of South Fork 
— close to Cave Spring Farm, in the old 
cemetery, an infant brother of Abe is 
buried; his name was Thomas Lincoln, 
Junior. In recent years we have tried to 
find the grave, but we never could. Mrs. 
Lincoln wanted to be buried there; that 
was one of the reasons she didn't want to 
settle in Indiana. A few days before they 
left, my mother, Sarah, Abe and myself 



308 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

went witli her to say good-by to the grave 
of her baby. AVe went in their old spring 
wagon, pulled by Mr. Keith's mule and 
one of my father's. Mrs. Lincoln covered 
the grave with wild flowers and vines we 
had gathered along the way. Then we all 
kneeled down there on the hillside and my 
mother prayed while Mrs. Lincoln said 
good-by to the little mound under the 
sheltering trees. On the way back we 
stopped at the Old Cave Spring to get a 
drink of that good water ; and we climbed 
the hill to the cabin in which Abe was 
born, that his mother might look on it 
once again before she left." 

Abe's playtime in the hills had ended; 
his heart was heavy when he went among 
them, and he would often weep as he sat 
upon their moss-covered rocks. His sad- 
ness deepened and he said little when with 
Austin, except to beg him to learn to read 
and write. 

*'I, too, was sorrowful," said Mr. G-ol- 
laher; ''indeed, I nearly broke down. I 




J 



< 



pq 



THE END OF PLAYTIME 309 

looked upon his departure with dread. 
My love for him, which came suddenlj^ 
into my heart when I was trying to teach 
him to ride a stick-horse out there on the 
Cave Spring Farm, was past the under- 
standing of even my own people. 

''One day he said to me: 'Austin, 
did you ever hear them tell about how a 
poor fellow feels the day before he is to be 
hung? Well, that's the way I feel, only 
worse. I'm always going to be sad,' he 
went on, 'but I'm going to try to learn 
something, and if I do, I am going to 
teach other little boys to read and write. 
We won't be together much longer, Aus- 
tin, and we can't hear from each other; so 
111 tell you what we will do. Every 
morning when the sun comes up, and ev- 
ery evening when it goes down, you think 
of me and I'll think of you. You know 
Mrs. McDougal said she promised her 
mother to do that when she came here, and 
she has kept it up ever since. We will 
just do that,' said Abe slowly, 'and I will 



310 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

know you are thinking of me and you will 
know I am thinking of you — when the sun 
comes up and when the sun goes down.' " 

Mr. Gollaher says he kept this up for a 
long time, and thought of Abe with all his 
strength, and he believed Abe did the 
same thing. 

"But I reckon he finally quit, because 
when he grew older he had many impor- 
tant things to do, among them that of be- 
ing president of the United States," and 
the old man wagged his head and 
chuckled. 

"A million times since he left here I 
have seen him in these hills with Honey," 
the old fellow said. ** Why, just the other 
day I went down to Knob Creek — down 
by the Nice Stone, and there I saw Abe — 
the boy — with that sad strange expres- 
sion upon his face, and I whispered, 'Abe, 
you went out into the world on an errand 
for God, and now youVe come back to 
play with me. Call Honey and we will go 
out in the woods and pester the squirrels,' 



THE END OF PLAYTIME 311 

but just then I heard the dinner horn and 
I tottered back to the house where I have 
lived for nearly a century — lived and 
thought of Abe, and thanked God that He 
honored me by letting me be Abe's 
playmate." 



CHAPTER XLI 

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 

The November sun came up over the 
hills bigger and brighter than usual that 
morning as if to cast its glints of gold in 
the path of the Lincolns at they traveled 
the road to Indiana. 

The spring wagon to which the two old 
horses were hitched, stood in front of the 
Lincoln cabin. The cow, securely hal- 
tered, with Abe and Austin at its head, 
was ready to follow the wagon over the 
road to Hodgen's Mill, and on to Middle 
Creek. 

Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah said good-by 
to the Gollahers ; Abe had received his last 
hug from Austin's mother, and all the lit- 
tle Gollaher children had hugged and 
kissed him. " Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah 
312 



THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 313 

were seated on a bed of straw in the front 
of tlie wagon, and all were ready for the 
departure. 

Mr. Gollaher and Austin were going 
along as far as Middle Creek, to help with 
the cow, which was a little unruly, greatly 
to Austin's delight. With much waving 
of hands, but in silence, the journey was 
begun. The tears were rolling down Mrs. 
Lincoln's cheeks, and Sarah was wiping 
her eyes with her apron. Thomas Lin- 
coln and Thomas Gollaher were in the 
lead. Side by side they walked and talked 
of their plans. 

On top of the hill— Elm Tree Hill— Abe 
glanced back for a moment at the cabin 
home, now deserted, then turned his eyes 
resolutely to the red clay road that 
stretched ahead of him and moved along 
with the free swing of the native back- 
woodsman. 

They stopped at Hodgen's Mill, where 
Mr. John and Missus Sarah were waiting 
for them, with a basket of food for the 



314 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

journey. Abe and Austin looked around 
the old familiar mill. Austin cried a lit- 
tle, but Abe touched him gently with the 
palm of his hand as he said : *' Maybe it's 
best for us to go. I may come back some 
time, and then we'll run the mill for Mr. 
John." 

Mrs. Hodgen said good-by with tears in 
her eyes — those great kind eyes that al- 
ways sought out the ways of goodness and 
ever looked with love on Abraham. She 
hugged him close and said : 

''May God bless you, my boy, and di- 
rect you in paths of righteousness. I feel 
that you have some wonderful duties be- 
fore you, and I know you will meet them 
well." 

'* Good-by, Tom: take good care of 
Mrs. Lincoln and the children — and old 
Fanny," said John Hodgen. Then he 
slipped a small gold piece into Abe's 
hand, saying : * ' Buy a book with it, son. ' ' 

The cow stopped to drink down at the 
ford below the gum-spring. The boys 



THE PAETING OF THE WAYS 315 

looked up-stream toward the old mill 
where they had spent so many happy 
days. Austin's eyes were filled with 
tears, but Abe did not cry. He was re- 
signed to the inevitable at last, and so 
turned his eyes with grim determination 
to the task before him. 

They reached Middle Creek about noon 
and had lunch before the final parting. 
But Abe could not eat ; that heavy "rock" 
in his breast, of which he so often com- 
plained, was now heavier than ever. 

** Abraham," pleaded his mother, "for 
my sake you must eat. You must keep up 
your strength. I will need you greatly 
when we are settled. You are a man, my 
son," she continued, "although in years 
you are still a child." 

"Abe obeyed his mother," said Mr. Gol- 
laher, "but he choked the food down just 
to please her." 

"Good-by, folks," said Thomas GoUa- 
her; "take care of them, Tom, and God 
bless all of you." 



316 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 

^'Good-by, Austin," said Abe simply, 
and the two boys wound their arms 
around each other. Then Abe broke away 
and led the cow across the stream, Honey 
following. 

"I watched them as they ascended the 
hill," said Mr. Gollaher, "the wagon in 
front, Abe and Honey and the cow be- 
hind ; I watched Abe — I watched him till 
the highest peak of his coonskin cap 
ducked below the hills, and then I fell 
upon my father's neck and sobbed." 

THE END 



3lv77-l 



